We Were the First
by zinza
Summary: My very first fan fiction. Ch 14 - Christine reflects back on her relationship with Roger Korby. The sisters have a disagreement. Rated T Profanity
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own much. Definitely don't own Star Trek. Not making any money either.

Dressed in a lab coat, gloves and safety goggles, hair neatly secured at the nape of the neck, the technician quickly swiped her ID card and entered the building. She moved as one who had worked in laboratories all her life. Her face betrayed the typical fatigue and preoccupation of a scientist on the cusp of the next major breakthrough. She stepped quickly through the first floor into the elevator, exchanged a shy detached smile with the white coated man who entered the elevator with her. He pressed the button for the 6th floor. She was relieved. She exited the 14th floor unobserved. She quickly swiped and entered Lab 1405A.

Shutting the door behind her, she pushed an unused table against the wall. She removed the large grid that covered the ventilation duct. She was tall, lithe and athletic. She easily pulled herself into the opening and slid inside. It was not so easy to lean out, grab the grid and attach it behind her. She pulled as hard as she could from the half prone position she was forced into. She could not refasten the grid from the inside but it seemed to stay in place from pressure alone.

She crawled down the tube until it made a turn to the right. Six feet further, she stopped. She loosened her blouse and removed the flux compression generator that was attached flat to her chest with medical tape. It was a tiny device about the size and shape of a communicator. Christine took a deep breath as she reached into the holster hidden under her long coat, and pulled out her Starfleet issued phaser. She then held her breath, steadied her hand and depressed the trigger. The blast caused the duct to shake and Christine was forced flat against the cold metal. She was pleased that the perfectly angled shot had exposed the 15th floor lab. With her left hand she activated the FCG and threw it into the hole."This is for all of us children, you evil sons of bitches! The liberation lives!" Christine yelled as scampered back through the duct.

Counting down in her mind, one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, Christine knew that the small device was nothing if unreliable. She did not believe that it would actually explode and destroy the computers which held the research of the enemy. She certainly did not trust the detonation timer. Damn technophobes! How many times had she wished that a member of the liberation had real scientific training? All of them were Luddites. How many times had she wished that Spock...no, she could not go there. Heart beating wildly, she was almost to the grid when she heard the sound of thunder, smelled the bitter scent of microchips burning, and saw the bright light of heaven. Suddenly, she could hear, smell and see nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Goleean medicine was not as advanced as that of the Federation, but it was adequate. The criminal detention wing of the hospital was crowded with ten beds, four of which were occupied. The small room was stuffed with the usual beeping and whirling machinery of medicine. Christine opened her eyes, looked down at her feet, and wiggled her toes. Then she clapped her hands in front of her and moved her neck back and forth. She seemed intact. Surprisingly, she was without pain and did not feel overly sedated. She felt a bandage on her right knee and another on her right shoulder. She heard the faint buzz and saw the blue tinge of the force field that kept her from getting out of the gurney. It reminded her that she was a prisoner.

Christine said to herself, "Well you've lucked out this time old girl. Maybe the sisters were right about guardian angels"

She thought of Luddy and Greink. Her mission was really meant as a diversion so that they could get into Facility Groler and free the prisoners. In the name of all that was decent and holy she prayed that they had succeeded. She had thought that sexism was in play when they were assigned to be the liberators while she was given an auxiliary role. Although, she had to admit that it was logical to assign her to play a biochemical lab technician.

"Shit, who better?" she thought.

Christine hit the mattress hard with her fist.

"Hell! Logic, logic, logic! Why can't I just delete that word from all the languages of the universe? What has logic ever given me but heartache?"

She was proud that she came up with the idea of making her diversion useful. At least it would take some time for the Goleeans to rebuild their damnable cloning program. Time for them to join the Federation, time for them to learn more humane regeneration techniques, Christine quietly ruminated.

Christine's thoughts were interrupted by five tall, thin Goleeans dressed in scrubs talking loudly.

"I just don't get it. Why would a terran female join in with that group of crusty ecopunks?"

"Yeah, for sure! She's the most hygienic smelling one I've ever had the pleasure of pulling shrapnel out of"

"I don't think she's your run of the mill hooligan. I've never transferred an inmate to Federation authorities before. She really must be in a heap of trouble"

Christine couldn't follow which Goleean was speaking. Goleeans had thin angular faces with eyes on either side of their heads. When they spoke through the tiny blowhole appearing mouths atop their craniums, their fishy heads would quickly move back and forth.

The one in the middle approached her on the gurney.

"Well Inmate #54032, you're a lucky one. Two blown out eardrums, minor scrapes and contusions."

He handed Christine a PADD-like device, similar but more clumsy.

In an imitation regal voice, halibut face bowed and proclaimed, "Sign here little lady, your carriage is waiting."

Christine heard snickers from the other scrubs.

She quickly signed the device with an X. Handing him back the device she realized how silly she was. If the Federation was collecting her, surely they knew her true identity. But how did they learn so quickly? Her mind flashed the image of the regulation phaser in her hand as she was crouched in the duct.

"Oh shit," she thought.

The USS Lindsay was a standard small frigate meant for the rapid transport of light cargo. Christine was beamed aboard and secured in the one bed sickbay. It was really no more than a closet. After the security officer made sure that she was strapped to the bed and could not escape, the nurse practitioner was allowed to survey the work done to Christine by the Goleeans.

"Christine!" Nurse Lydia Evans exclaimed. "No, Officer Granier you must be mistaken. You must release these restraints! This is Doctor Christine Chapel, chief medical officer of the USS Enterprise and my friend. She is no terrorist!"

Christine groaned inwardly. Really, Star Fleet was like a small college fraternity and it was impossible not to run into those you went to academy or served with on various duties. Lydia was always a nice if not that memorable nurse that she met during her medical internship.

"Shit, shit, shit," Christine knew the humiliation was just beginning.

Christine listened as the professional sounding Officer Granier assured her Dr. Christine Chapel was most definitely the individual found laying unconscious on the 14th floor of a research laboratory in Goleea, phaser in hand, ceiling tiles and debris scattered around her, EMP discharged above her. She was caught red handed.

"I can't believe that. Christine has been in Starfleet forever, probably 15 years, I don't know, something like that. She's practically a legend like Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Well maybe not, but, I mean she was on the original Enterprise with them. She's old school Starfleet. This is not possible."

Christine colored red and decided that Lydia didn't mean to be insulting.

"Christine, tell him," Lydia implored.

"Lydia, I'm so sorry that I can not explain, but it would be unwise for me to speak without my attorney present," Christine calmly stated.

The Officer winked at Lydia knowingly.


	3. Chapter 3

Because she was restrained, Christine was not allowed to watch as the frigate went into orbit around earth. She'd been away for many years and was resentful that this magical sight, something that no terran space explorer tired of no matter how many times they'd seen it, was denied to her.

Her containment cell was small. It had a bed, sink, toilet, replicator which appeared to be controlled by a keycard, and a com unit with a screen on the wall. She had been in her cell for only about an hour when the com unit buzzed and three familiar faces appeared on the video screen.

She snickered to herself silently at the flat two dimensional rendering of these faces she'd known so well for so long. Did they think that denying inmates holographic imagery was really punishment? She looked upon Kirk's angry eyes, McCoy's concerned ones, and then on to Spock. Spock's face was placid, completely unreadable. Damn, he was sexy though. She steeled herself against those inevitable butterflies stirring up deep beneath the waistband of her orange prison jumpsuit.

She thought, yes this is punishment. It was punishment to be denied looking at the curve of his ear, the angularity of his high cheekbones. Perhaps it was worse punishment than not being able to look upon the blue orb known as earth as she had descended into San Francisco.

Captain Kirk spoke first.

"Christine, are you guilty of these charges? Explain yourself!"

Christine looked for the boyish manner, the twinkling eyes, something recognizable. It was not there.

"Captain, I have spoken to no one. I do not know what I am charged with," Christine stated.

Kirk fired back quickly.

"Dr. Chapel did you or did you not enter the Goleea Research Facility and discharge an EMP?"

"Sir, I do not understand. I have not been briefed on the charges. I have seen no lawyer. I cannot respond to you. I need answers myself before I can provide any assistance to you."

Kirk made a movement like he was going to rise from the chair.

His voice maintained its hard even tone, "Doctor, I granted you a leave of absence. You said you wanted to do imperative research off ship. Although this was an unusual request, I granted it because I have always held you in high esteem. I pulled strings with all the brass to allow you to go. Your repayment for my kindness…Well frankly, you're repayment sucks. I have seen the evidence, Chapel. If you weren't framed in some way… Well, your career is over. Your life outside of prison is over.

Spock started slowly, "Doctor Chapel, if the charges are correct what you have done has shamed Starfleet and the Enterprise. You have also dishonored yourself. I want to understand. Please explain. Why did you do this? If you have not read the charges, I'm sure you don't realize that you are being accused of breaking the prime directive. How is it possible that such an experienced officer as yourself could do such a thing? It is not logical."

Christine stood up.

"Prime directive! Don't give me this prime directive bull crap! If it wasn't for the prime directive I would never have had to go and free the clones. There wouldn't have been any god damned clones to free! Shut up with your freaking prime directive shit! You god damn hypocritical logic driven shit face! None of you know anything about what I've done, or why I've done it. Bureaucrats never know anything about morality. Why don't you just go to hell?"

Spent by her tirade, Christine sat back down. She knew that her anger was misdirected but she really didn't care. Spock's utterance of that most hated term 'Prime Directive' had pushed all the wrong buttons. She did regret that in her anger, she had revealed too much information.

Spock calmly responded, "Dr. Chapel, your extensive use of scatological terminology is most perplexing and inaccurate. I sonic showered at 0630 hours and am quite sure that there is no fecal matter on my face, not that I'm in the practice of ever having excrement on the outer parts of my body. Also, since hell is a fictional place to Vulcans, I doubt that I could find a way to visit there. I also find your use of profanity distasteful and unbecoming of an officer in Starfleet.

Shit, Christine thought. Spock loves logic so much that he actually uses the word scatological when referring to shit. That's funny. It would be sort of endearing if he hadn't already condemned her.

McCoy finally spoke his turn.

"Chris," Doctor McCoy uttered softly. "Tell me about the clones."

Christine's head jerked upright. She detected not just concern but sadness in his demeanor. Yes, she had already said way too much.

"Oh Lenny, I wish I could explain it all to you. I don't want to disappoint you. You're my mentor, my friend, almost the father I never had. I'll make all of you understand. But I need information first. I also need your promise that what I tell you is not conveyed to the authorities until the proper time." Christine stopped talking.

For a moment the three two-dimensional heads on the screen quieted as well.

Kirk responded, "I already had to pull strings to get this live feed, Doctor Chapel. We will discuss this matter amongst ourselves and get back to you at a later time."

The screen darkened.

Damn! Christine replayed the words _live feed _in her head. Life feed meant the Enterprise was less than two weeks away. She bitterly thought that if it was McCoy or his precious Spock in this predicament, the Enterprise with Kirk at the helm, would already be in orbit around the earth.


	4. Chapter 4

The three highly decorated officers sat around the conference table. Kirk reached up and rubbed his hair with his hands.

"Spock what do you know of the planet Goleea?"

Spock launched with computer like precision, "Goleea is a Class M planet in the Raythelon-5 galaxy. It is the fifth planet from a star very similar in size and mass to the earth. Goleea is comprised of many loosely linked City-States. Its development is categorized as that of Earth in the mid to late 22nd century. The Goleeans have not developed warp powered flight. They have however developed sophisticated communication technology and have contacted civilizations outside their solar system through these systems. Some of Goleea's City-States have expressed interest in joining the Federation. The Federation sees the rich mineral content of the planet as desirable. Many ambassadors also feel that if Goleea joined the republic it would be a stabilizing influence in that region. There is concern in the Federation that since Goleea does not have advanced space flight technology, it is not advanced enough to become a Federation planet. Others are concerned with human right violations reported in some regions. Also, since Goleea does not have one unified government some analysts fear instability amongst the individual City-States. Almost all governments on Goleea have relations with Godeea, another class M planet in the same solar system. Godeea is the third planet from their sun. This is problematic since Godeea has been reaching out diplomatically to Romulus. The Goleeans are generally regarded as peaceful."

"Thank you Mr. Spock. Computer, cross index any information matching words clone or cloning with the word Goleea."

The computer responded, "Negative, there are zero matches, sir."

The captain paused for a millisecond, realizing how much the computer sounded like Dr. Chapel. "Mr. Spock, were you able to pull up Chapel's travel logs? How soon did she go to Goleea after she left the Enterprise?"

Spock answered, "Yes, Captain. I was able to ascertain that Dr. Chapel immediately procured private transport to Goleea and arrived 8.3 days after she left the Enterprise. I attempted to pull any correspondence or messages from her com unit for the last three months. I discovered that all information was wiped from the system. I was unable to reconstruct it, sir."

"Ok, Spock. I'm open to any theories or ideas. Clearly this is out of character for the Dr. Chapel that we know. What do you make of it?"

The captain turned to his first officer hoping he would have the solution.

Instead of answering the Captain, Spock directed a question to Doctor McCoy.

"Dr. McCoy, is it common procedure to run a full psychiatric diagnostic on defendants in Starfleet detention facilities?"

"Of course," McCoy answered in a mildly annoyed sounding voice, "I reckon it is. But why do you ask?"

"I found Dr. Chapel's use of profanity out of character and was wondering if..."

McCoy could not let Spock finish.

"Why Spock, you can't imagine Chris cussing you out? Let me assure you as a Starfleet medic Chris has heard and used profanity on many occasions. I have been on the receiving end of much worse than what she directed at you."

McCoy sounded indignant.

"My guess is that Chris was cursing out of anger - out of anger and hurt."

"Anger?" Mr. Spock asked as he slowly lifted one eyebrow.

"Why yes, you pointy-eared inquisitor. You and the Captain sound as though you've already convicted her. And Spock, seriously where do you get off, lecturing her on shame and honor! My god, how condescending and sanctimonious can…"

Kirk jumped in, "McCoy please. We're meeting here because we wish to help Dr. Chapel, if it is at all possible. But, if she's done this, we have no responsibility. And Bones, I got to tell you, her responses don't give me a good feeling."

"Damn straight, you should want to help her. When I think how many times that little lady has saved our lives, held our hands when we were sick," McCoy gave a hard look at Spock, "fed us soup when we were ailing, " McCoy met Spock's eyes with an even more piercing glance, "I can't imagine not getting to the bottom of this. Chris is no terrorist. You both know this. She is the kindest, most compassionate person I've ever met."

Kirk was looking hard at the desk, "McCoy, I know, I know…but how do you explain the evidence, the crazy talk about clones? Why doesn't she just tell us the truth?"

McCoy sighed deeply and looked hard at his cuticles.

"Look, I know something about Chris that you and Spock don't. Hell, I'm breaching doctor patient confidentiality, but you need to know. I can't explain why Chris was bombing a research lab. But I know it has to be linked to this. You see, Christine Chapel was created from a single cell in a biolab. Christine herself is a clone."

For the first time this evening, James Kirk's mouth bent into a half-smile, a disbelieving smile.

Kirk repeated McCoy's words but raised his voice at the end, "A clone?"

Spock quickly chimed in, "Yes, Captain. A cell, cell product, or organism that is genetically identical to the unit or individual from which it was derived."

"Look, I'm just a country doctor. But, I've seen a world of good done with genetic and reproductive medicine. In vitro fertilization has been successfully used for centuries. I've seen fetuses with birth defects cured in the womb with genetic medicine. These are all wonderful and positive technologies. Back when Christine first told me about her background, I did a lot of thinking about this cloning business. I've never heard of good coming from cloning. I'm not talking about the child that is born from it. A cloned child would be no different than any other baby. It's the motivation to make a duplicate being that is problematic. The wish to make an exact copy of another sentient being is the wish to alter the cycle of life. Historically, cloning has been done by mad scientists - narcissists and megalomaniacs. I have a feeling this was true in Christine's case as well. I know Chris had a sad childhood. Her first years were spent in the lab where she was created. I don't know all the details. It's not something she wanted to talk about. Later, she was sent to live in some sort of convent by her sister who was also her guardian. At some point the convent got a bit freaky and her sister rescued her. I think she enrolled in the university soon after."

"Sister?" Kirk asked.

"Number One was also a clone and genetically identical to Christine. I compared the DNA profiles myself at Christine's behest. She was also Christine's legal guardian after the doctor that made them was arrested."

"Number One?" Spock and Kirk asked in unison.

"Yes, that Number One, First Officer to Captain Christopher Pike on the Enterprise," McCoy replied.

"Number One has been missing and presumed dead approximately 8.3 years." Spock flatly stated.

"Yes, I remember there was a search for her. It was all very sad," Kirk paused for a moment seemingly lost in thought, "But let's go back to the matter at hand. What do the both of you suggest we do now?"


	5. Chapter 5

Christine was awakened early. A correctional officer gave her a keycard for the replicator. She had a bland breakfast and was then led into a holding room. A small table and two simple metallic chairs were placed across from each other. The only other thing in the room was the faint smell of disinfectant. A middle aged, balding human man entered and shook her hand.

"I'm pleased to meet you Dr. Chapel. My name is John Erskine. I am a public defender. I have been assigned to your case. You do have a right to retain your own counsel. I can assist you in getting a line out if you want to call your own attorney. I also can facilitate any immediate concerns that you may have. I would also like to go over the charges against you. Please have a seat."

The lawyer gestured to one of the chairs.

Christine held her hand up to stop him, "Mr. Erskine before we get into all this, I need to know, was anyone else injured by the EMP?"

John Erskine looked into her tired eyes, "No, you were the only one hurt in the blast."

Christine released a small sigh. "Thank God, a man entered the elevator with me. Our intelligence indicated that there should be no personnel working, except in the lobby. I was so worried that someone else might have been hurt or killed."

Christine leaned in nearer to the attorney and smelled the scent of dehydrated and then reconstituted potatoes on his breath.

"Mr. Erskine, was there any activity reported at Facility Groler at the same time as the EMP bombing?"

John Erskine noticed the intensity of the blue eyes that held his gaze. She awaited his answer, her body so rigid and so still that he was sure she was holding her breath.

"Look, Dr. Chapel, I have no idea what you're talking about. Even if I did, I would not answer you. I suspect that your question has something to do with your activities on Goleea. That means it involves your case. I don't want you to say anything about your case to anyone. You're going to have a preliminary hearing tomorrow. I'm going to plead you not guilty. It's a formality, really. There will be plenty of time for you and your lawyer to decide whether you'll go to trial or plea bargain the charges. That is all for another time. For now, it's imperative that you do not discuss your case with anyone. Do you understand?"

"Mr. Erskine, I think we should understand each other. I have no intention of getting another lawyer or mounting a defense. I will plead guilty. I am guilty."

The lawyer suddenly looked grim.

"Look, have you spoken to the prosecutor or an investigator yet?"

Christine answered, "No. Well, yes and no. Someone from the prosecutor's office came into my cell when I first arrived and wanted to take a statement. I don't know, I was tired and didn't feel like talking. He didn't look like the type that would hear me out anyway, so I declined. I said I wanted my attorney before I would give a statement. He left."

Erskine breathed a sigh of relief and gave Christine a quick smile, "Good girl, you got good instincts. You'll get to speak with him soon enough, don't worry. But I'll be there and we'll be ready for him. As for pleading guilty, if you want to hurt yourself, I suppose I can't stop you. I get this feeling there's a lot more to this story. I'm thinking there are mitigating circumstances. You, officer types are my most difficult clients. You always complicate everything. But, Doctor Chapel, we should go over the charges before you make any final decisions."

The attorney put his PADD down on his desk and started to read:

"Unlawful breaking and entering, discharging an explosive device with the intent of bodily harm, felony mayhem, felony property damage, improper use of Starfleet equipment, giving false information on Form 3205(a) Leave of Absence Request, breaking General Order Number One, by supplying technology and information to a documented nonwarp…"

Erskine was interrupted by a guard at the door.

"Excuse me, Doctor, I'll just be a moment," Erskine said as he stepped into the hallway.

The lawyer returned a few minutes later, his demeanor completely changed. No longer the calm professional, he was clearly excited and a bit out of breath.

"Doctor, how well do you trust Kirk, McCoy and Spock?"

Christine did not hesitate, "Implicitly."

Christine pondered her immediate response. Did she trust them? Of course she did. She was hurt by the way they'd questioned her during the video conference call. But, she did trust them, as she had for over ten years. She had tried to push them away by not answering their questions, by acting like she did not know what she would be charged with. Secretly, she had been harboring the hope that they would somehow rescue her. Why would Erskine ask such a question? Was it possible that they would intervene?

Christine chastised the romantic girl who lived within her. No, McCoy, Kirk and the dashing Spock were not going to break her from her prison cell. No, she wasn't going to ride on the back of Spock's white horse, her arms wrapped around his lean, muscular frame, the side of her face pressed against his delicious smelling back, galloping onward as McCoy and Kirk looked on admiringly from their smaller, less impressive steeds. Nope, it just wasn't happening.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her lawyer's response, "Very well then. Your arraignment will be in two hours. As I explained earlier you will enter your plea 'not guilty' and then you will go to the medical unit. There, you will be given a battery of physical and psychological tests. After that you will be remanded to your cell for the evening. Tomorrow we will meet with your co-counsel."

"Mr. Erskine, I'm confused. What co-counsel? I told you that I plan to plead guilty and that I accept you as my lawyer."

Christine, Doctor McCoy, First Officer Spock and Captain Kirk have requested to be listed as co-counsel for your defense. As officers in good standing, this has been accepted by Starfleet Court. They concur with my belief that you should plead not guilty at the arraignment. I assumed that you would follow their very sound advice. Christine, try to get a little rest and maybe run a comb through your hair. I'll see you in two hours."

With that, John Erskine somewhat smugly signaled the guard and walked out of the room.

Christine hadn't been able to rest but she did run the comb through her hair. As she was led to the courtroom she could not help but anticipate who might be in the chamber. Would her co-counsel be seated next to John Erskine?

Led in by two guards, Christine looked around before sitting into the seat where she was directed. Mr. Erskine was sitting next to her. In front of her, the judge sat behind an impressive desk. The small digital name plaque read, 'The Honorable Loretta Gomez'. There was no sign of McCoy, Kirk or Spock.

Christine dutifully remained silent as John Erskine entered her not guilty plea. She didn't like the way he had manipulated her out of pleading guilty, but she decided to play the game with him for now. The proceeding was over in less than five minutes. She was led out of the courtroom and into the medical facility. There, she underwent the familiar poking, prodding and head-shrinking of a full Starfleet medical exam.

Back in her room, Christine had her tasteless replicator dinner. She lay in her bed but knew that the anticipation of tomorrow's meeting would make restful sleep impossible.

**Author's Note: First, I'd like to thank those of you that wrote nice reviews of my story. This truly is the first fan fiction I've ever written. In fact, it's the first story I've written in at least 25 years. It means so much to me that people are enjoying it - **

**Next comes a warning: Chapter 6 and beyond will have a lot of stuff about cloning. There will be death, sadness and loss in the upcoming chapters. If that's not your thing then it's best if you don't keep reading.**

**I don't know why my mind came up with this plot idea for my first story. I promise that my next story will be lighter and happier.**


	6. Chapter 6

Christine anticipated her co-counsel would come to the meeting with John Erskine via video conferencing. As she was being led by the two guards to the same holding room where she had met with John Erskine yesterday, she was trying to figure out what, if anything, she wanted from her new lawyers. She had more to do in life. She did not want to spend the rest of her days in a small room, eating bad replicator food. She had made her decisions freely. Those choices had led her to break multiple laws. Yet, she felt that her actions were moral. Her intent was to save the lives of others. She wanted to expose what the Goleeans were doing in the Groler Facility to the Federation and make sure this type of technology was never used again. She wanted to know that the Goleean Liberation Front members and the clones from Groler were safe.

As she entered the room she noted that yesterday's small table was replaced with a much larger one. She sat in the chair where the guard directed her. Across from her were four empty chairs. On the tabletop was a pitcher of water and four glasses. She filled a glass and was taking a slow sip when John Erskine, Jim Kirk, Mr. Spock and Leonard McCoy entered the room.

Christine quickly got up to greet her comrades. She shook hands with Kirk and Spock and accepted Leonard's bear hug before going back to take her seat. Besides exchanging the normal polite greetings, everyone was strangely stiff and silent. She stared down at the table afraid to look into any of their eyes. She did not want them to see the shame she felt. The shame didn't come from being involved in the bombing. It didn't come from wearing the orange prison jumpsuit, either. Well, on second thought, the prison outfit was a bit shameful. Wearing it reminded her that she had been caught. Plus, orange was not a flattering color. The true shame she felt was older. She had quietly and deeply held it almost her whole life.

John Erskine broke the silence, "Christine, I've received your medical report. You're in excellent health both physically and mentally. Since I am the most experienced barrister here, it has been agreed that I will chair this meeting. My co-counsel have time constraints so I want to prepare your defense in an expeditious manner. My experience is that the more I know about my client, the better I can handle the case. So Christine, I want you to start at the beginning, the very beginning. Tell me about your childhood, your family, your schooling, and your career. I want to know about your background and then we can go into how you ended up on Goleea.

Christine continued staring at the shiny metal tabletop. She was stunned. Kirk, Spock and McCoy were actually there to help prepare her defense. They weren't saying much. They weren't on horseback but, they were there!

Mr. Erskine continued, "We'll be recording this, but it's only for our use. So you can relax and begin."

Captain Kirk interjected, "Christine take your time, start at the very beginning and tell us everything. I've had a lot of experience with hearings. You never know what little tidbit of information will be useful."

Erskine nodded. He did not care that Kirk had practically repeated what he had just said. It didn't hurt for her to hear it from someone she trusted. The lawyer looked again at Christine, "Proceed when you're ready."

Christine took a big drink from her glass and began.

"The very beginning…Well first off, my name was not originally Christine Chapel. My birth name was Number Twenty-Three. I was born on Stardate 2239 at Schnell Biological Research in Redwood City, California. My mother's name was Gretchen Schnell. I do not have a father.

Christine pressed her two thumbs hard against the flat side of the table. She leaned against the back of her chair. She resisted the childish urge to raise the front legs of her chair off the ground. Her strategy was to tell her story to Erskine and McCoy. They were the safest. She did not want to look at Kirk or Spock. Her goal was to tell her story completely and without emotion. Luckily, Erskine sat to her far left. McCoy was on her far right. She told herself that if she spoke to them it would appear as though she was talking to all of them.

Switching her gaze from Erskine to McCoy, Christine took a deep breath and continued, "Childhood memories can be funny – random. I think my first memory was of the tables in the dining complex. I was probably three years old. The tables were crazy long. You know - the type that would be used in a cafeteria. All of us girls would dine together. I remember sitting on my booster seat, proud to be sitting in a grownup chair at the big table, but terrified I'd fall out. The younger ones were usually put in high chairs lined up against the walls, attended to by the assistants. We all ate the same dish every day without variation. Mama Gretchen, that's what she had us call her, was a believer in science above all things so every day we had water to drink and Mama Gretchen's human kibble. We were assured that the food was calculated to have the exact amount of nutrients and calories necessary for optimum age appropriate human development. It looked exactly like puppy chow. We knew of no other kind of food so we thought it was delicious.

Mealtimes were always the same. The older girls would discuss the periodic table or geometry. Us younger ones would grow bored and throw kibble at each other. Or, we'd make fart noises and stick kibble in our noses and blow it out back into the bowl and then eat it. We would laugh so hard! Mama Gretchen's assistants would try to make us stop. They'd try to make us focus with learning games but we were too young to understand or care about math or science.

I remember Number One running around trying to maintain order. She would always say, 'I am the first and I have responsibility for all of you. You need discipline to be a scientist!'

We would mimic her. Hands on hips, our faces stern, we'd chant, 'You need dis'plin to be a scientist! You need dis'plin! I am the first! No, I'm the first!'

To think she was no more than ten years old at the time. Ten years old and mocked by thirty of her sisters.

We didn't understand that we were different. We thought it was normal that we looked the same. We had no contact with the outside world, so we thought everyone lived as we did. Number One knew better. Because she was the first human clone manufactured at Schnell Biological, Mama Gretchen took her out and exhibited her at scientific conventions. This was before the backlash. Mama Gretchen, so smart in every other sense, was blind to how people would react to the first human clone.

Anyway, I didn't like Number One when I was little. I saw her as a bossy know-it-all. Miss I Am the First! She wasn't a part of our group. She acted like she was better than us. After I heard that she was missing and presumed dead I thought about Number One as a child. As an adult, I could see her actions from a different perspective. She was the only one of us who knew. No wonder she would always brag about being the first. She wanted to be an individual. She wished to distinguish herself from the rest of us in some small way."

**Author's Note: Again, I just want to thank those of you who have reviewed, favorited, or are watching this story. It means so much to me. The fact that I'm not just writing it for myself anymore, keeps me going when I'm struggling. This is a pretty complicated story so I've wrestled with it a lot! So, I hope you continue to enjoy it as it continues to get weirder.**


	7. Chapter 7

"It was around my tenth birthday, that I noticed things changing. The first big upset came when June rolled around and there were no new babies. For as long as I could remember, May was baby month. Some years, there would be ten new babies. Other years, if there were complications, only three or four would be added to the nursery. I shared my birth year and May birthday with seven other sisters. Of course, Number One shared her birth year with no one. She was three years older than the next group of sisters. Mama Gretchen waited over two years to make sure that Number One was developing normally before doing the process again.

So, there were always new babies in May. It was our favorite time. The babies were neatly tucked inside their bassinets in the nursery. Their chubby bodies were all dressed in pink, with little caps on their heads and mitts on their hands. They were so cute and tiny. I so wanted to go inside the nursery, pick up a little baby and hold her. Of course, this was not allowed. The nursery environment was strictly controlled. New assistants were invariably hired to tend the new group of newborns. I always imagined that I might trick a new hire into breaking the rules. Every year, I was sorely disappointed to discover that the well trained staff was unyielding when it came to Mama Gretchen's instructions. Assistants were always professional, detached and female.

I knew something was wrong when I saw some of the staff carrying out cribs, infant supplies, and some of the lab equipment that was used in the gestation process. We asked where all the equipment was going and were told that it was going to be sold. Around this time I became aware of tension between Mama Gretchen and her employees. They would not argue or discuss personal business in front of us children. That was forbidden. For the first time, we would hear angry loud voices sometimes when we walked the hallways. I could feel the tension. Assistants I had known my entire life disappeared one by one. We would ask where they went. We were simply told that they had found other work. Our schooling was shortened from ten hours a day to six and then to four. Number One stopped going to class completely and took the role of an assistant. She worked in the laboratories and became one of our teachers. Some of the other older children also started doing lab work after school, chiefly watching Mama Gretchen's experiments, and making kibble. Even us younger ones had to pitch in and do more chores.

Our schooling stopped completely the week before the big move. We were told to pack everything. Everything in the lab was thrown into disarray – even Mama Gretchen. I remember, being in the room packing Petri dishes, artificial uteruses, pipettes and other tools of the trade with Mama Gretchen and a bunch of other girls. Then, something strange happened, so out of character for Mama Gretchen that it sticks in my memory like it happened yesterday. Mama Gretchen called me over and took me out of the room and into another area behind a tall pile of labeled and stacked boxes. She bent down and looked at me intensely. I was surprised to see her eyes were watery.

'Number Twenty-three, everything I have worked for is gone. Do you understand? I gave my life to help humanity. Through my superior mind and my discoveries, I wanted to benefit mankind into perpetuity. I wanted my wisdom to continue through the ages. But, they've rejected me. I've failed.'

Real tears were now falling from the scientist's eyes, 'Twenty-three, you understand don't you? I believe that you can understand the pain that I feel.'

I was dumbfounded. Mama seemed to be speaking to me. She had said my name. It didn't feel as though she had just read it off the name label affixed to my shirt. It was as if she knew me and was addressing me as a person. I had witnessed the assistants call each other by name and speak to each other like that. Of course, I spoke to the sisters in my group all the time. No adult had ever spoken to me like that, though. I was astonished with my emotions. I realized I _could _feel her pain. Not in a literal sense, of course. But, I looked at my creator's sad, red, wet face and thought of all the experimenting she had done. I thought of the laboratory she had built herself. I thought of the nursery with all the beautiful pink babies. Even though I did not understand what she meant about benefiting mankind through perpetuity, I felt sad for her. I knew she had worked hard and had not been appreciated. It made me think of all the small kindnesses I had done for my sisters. I thought of the times I had bandaged a knee, or made a homemade gift for one of my sisters, because I cared for them. Many times my gestures had gone completely unacknowledged. It hurt. I knew that Mama Gretchen had done big things and people had turned their backs to her. I felt so sorry. I reached up and wrapped my arms around Mama Gretchen's thin waist.

'Mama Gretchen, I am so sorry that they don't understand. Someday they will see their mistake and they will have tears in their eyes. Then, I will feel sad for them, but happy for you.'

With that I buried my wet eyes into her lab coat and hugged her harder. My whole body moved up and down as Mama Gretchen laughed. She pulled me away from her and put her hands on my face. She had a small sad smile on her face.

There was pride in her voice when she said, 'Oh, little one. I was right about you!'

Moving day itself was surprisingly uneventful. The transporter beams moved all our equipment and then us to a new much smaller building. We unpacked our personal belongings and the classroom supplies. One room was set up as a laboratory. It was not for Mama Gretchen's experiments though. It was set up just for us, for chemistry class. Most of the scientific supplies remained boxed in the basement.

Our routine quickly normalized. We returned to six hour school days with breakfast, lunch and dinner eaten on the long tables. Because of the lack of staff, we first helped the younger ones with their bowls and then we would get our own food. Everything became routine once again. That is until I noticed that each day there were more and more empty chairs at the long table. My sisters were disappearing.

Christine took a drink and looked at the glass. She really didn't want to go on with the story but she felt their eyes upon her. She chose Dr. McCoy's compassionate face to look at as she continued.

"I am ashamed that I can't tell you exactly when the first girl disappeared. Even worse, I can't tell you her name. It was definitely an older girl. The older girls left first. Since the eldest were working as teachers and technicians; I wasn't close to them. I hung around girls my own age since we spent the most time together in and out of class. Of course, I had friends. I didn't have a favorite or a best friend, but I liked the sisters in my group well enough. For that matter, I liked the older and younger girls as well. I suppose I held onto my childish resentment of Number One; but, I didn't really talk to her all that much. Besides, she had become more like an assistant than a sister.

So, a few of the older girls were just gone. I didn't really question it. I just blindly believed the rumors. I heard talk that they had gone out in the real world, outside the lab. I studied meteorology and astronomy, but had never felt the wind or rain. I had never been outside, had never even seen the real sun or moon. The talk of their leaving stirred up all sorts of emotions. I was jealous that they got to go out and experience life. I was also excited. If they got to leave maybe I would leave as well, when I got older. I was also terrified of what lay outside the protective walls of the laboratory. Would I be able to survive outside? Would I get sunburned, bit by bees or would I starve? I had no idea how to choose food that had the proper nutrition for my age and height. The idea of biting into an apple, a fruit that I had only read about, was tantalizing though.

Then, there was the idea of men. I had studied biology, anatomy, history, sociology, psychology and anthropology. So intellectually, I knew a bit about human males. I had never seen one though. Around this time, I discovered the ancient book Wuthering Heights on a shelf where Mama Gretchen kept antiques for us to look at. I loved that book and became a bit obsessed with it. I loved holding it and turning the crinkling pages. I would sniff the binding and enjoy its musty smell. Best of all, I would curl up in a chair and read it. I read the part where Catherine tells the housekeeper that she and Heathcliff have the same soul over and over. I would think and dream of the world inside those pages. Would I leave the lab and find my own Heathcliff, my soul mate? Would we destroy each other like they had? Sometimes, I thought passion, betrayal, longing and finally an early death would be preferable to living forever amongst Mama Gretchen and my sisters. Other times, I felt sorry for the girls who had left. Of course, they were in the modern world where cultural status was not an issue. In our society, Heathcliff and Catherine would marry. In our society, it was highly probable that they would then divorce amiably, and divide custody of their children, the passion they shared forgotten. Surely, I was still the lucky one, safely ensconced in my laboratory home. In the lab, where no one had dirty hands, felt different, or took emotional risks, I was better off."


	8. Chapter 8

"Eventually all the older girls were gone. There was no one left to teach us, so we did independent study on the computers. Mama Gretchen could have directed us in some chemistry experiments like she used to. However, she was too distracted to pay much attention to us. Only two of Mama Gretchen's most loyal assistants remained. They also seemed too busy to pay us any mind. We were now pretty much fending for ourselves. Luckily, there were bags and bags of food stored up. The lab was automated enough that cleaning and laundry were only minor inconveniences.

We slept dormitory style as we had done our whole lives. There were three dorm rooms: one for the eldest group, one for us, the ones in the middle, and then a room for the youngest. The young ones would move to the dormitory after they'd outgrown their cribs and were potty trained. These rooms were large. There were no less than twenty beds in each one. Each room had a communal bathroom with showers next to it. Now that we were the oldest group we took charge of the younger ones. We made sure they were tucked in at night and helped them with eating, and with logging in on the computers during the day. Number One slept in the dorm for the oldest girls by herself.

One day early in the morning, Mama Gretchen came into our dorm room. She said that she was going to take five girls on a field trip outside the laboratory. I was not chosen. The five girls were all a year or two older than I. A couple days later, she came back and took eight more. Six of them shared my birth year; we had turned eleven by then. Two of the girls were a year younger. Without the white noise of hushed chatter, I didn't fall asleep easily after my group of sisters left. The quiet was numbing. I missed them so much. I would lie in bed and try to remember each and every missing sister. I'd remember one at the long table laughing, and another partnering with me during chemistry experiments. There was the sporty sister who would race me on the treadmill during physical ed. and always win. I'd attach a number name with each beloved face. My eyes and cheeks were always wet by the time I'd fall into fitful slumber.

I don't know when they gathered up the very youngest. It happened in the night. One morning I woke up and the little ones were gone too. The two remaining assistants must have left with them. Mama Gretchen, Number One and I were the only ones who remained.

I've often wondered, why I didn't question Mama Gretchen when it was happening. Perhaps, it was conditioning. We were encouraged to question Mama Gretchen and the assistants when they were teaching at school. But, we understood that they were our superiors. We did not question their judgment or decisions outside the classroom. I guess that is why my sisters went so willingly. I suppose some of them might have been excited to finally see the outside world. What I know for sure is that I was in a prepubescent fog at the time. I was living so much in my own head, with my own fantasies that I didn't think about what was going on until it was too late. I've often wondered why I didn't see it. Why didn't I act, question or say something when they first started leaving? I wonder if I could have saved them."

Christine sat silent at the table for a moment. Her head was down. She had stopped looking McCoy and Erskine in the eyes a while ago. This was so hard, but she had to maintain her composure. She wasn't going to let Spock see her cry. What must he be thinking? What must they all be thinking? She had prattled on about apples and Wuthering Heights and of all things, men so she wouldn't have to tell this part of the story. She could not imagine how they viewed her now. She couldn't think about that. Avoidance was such a huge part of her life. So, to stop thinking about these men sitting across from her, the ones who meant the most to her and would help shape her future, she continued with the story she never wanted to tell.

"This is when my life completely changed. When we walked out the laboratory door, I felt the sun on my skin for the first time. It was a foggy day so it wasn't bright outside. But, my eyes were not used to natural light. It was disorienting. It wasn't just the sun. The smell of the outdoors, the crisp breeze, and the chirping of the birds inundated my senses. Number One had to take me by the hand and lead me to the awaiting taxi. We didn't take much with us. I just took some clothes, personal hygiene items, my ancient copy of Wuthering Heights and my PADD which contained my studies. Mama Gretchen took several hard drives that held her research data, along with a small suitcase and one of the medical kits. Number One carried one duffel bag that appeared to be overfilled. The taxi brought us to the outside of an apartment building on Page and Fillmore in San Francisco. It was a large Victorian era apartment building. The ornate exterior was colorfully painted. This was to be our new home. We rang for the apartment manager. The kindly older woman led us up three floors of creaking steps to a small solid wooden door with the number six on it. She opened the lock and gave Mama Gretchen the key. We walked inside to a small living room. It was completely empty. The floor was wood. Off to the left was a small, old fashioned kitchen. There was a very short hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

I put down my suitcase in the living room and sat on top of it. I was still recovering from sensory overload and felt dazed. Mama Gretchen was just standing in the middle of the living room. She looked thin and tired. Number One was standing near the front door. She dropped her duffle bag and closed the door behind her. She walked up and faced Mama Gretchen. She stood so close that their identically shaped noses were practically touching.

'You are going to tell me where my sisters are right now,' Number One said in a quiet but forceful voice. 'You're going to tell me and we're going to go get them now. If you don't, I'm going to call the police and tell them everything that I know.'

Mama Gretchen let out a strange nervous laugh. Her voice sounded unusually high pitched¸ 'You're not going to tell anyone anything. You're a smart girl. You can put together what happened. Besides, as my chief assistant you are complicit in everything that went on. We're going to live here. I'm going to get some cute furniture and we'll live here like a family. Like a real family in a real home.'

'No, you're going to tell me where all of my sisters are and you will do it now,' Number One stated with icy cold fury. She sounded much louder than she had the last time she spoke.

Number One and I both stared at Mama Gretchen awaiting her response. I was still sitting on my suitcase but I was now alert. I wanted Mama Gretchen to bring my sisters back.

Number One probably waited a full minute before she walked briskly to the com unit on the wall.

'What do you think you're doing?' Mama Gretchen yelled. Her voice was filled with fear.

'Calling the Police,' Number One said as she extended a finger up toward the unit.

'No!' Gretchen yelled as she ran toward Number One and tried to tackle her to the ground.

Number One kept her footing and struck Mama Gretchen hard in the face.

'Tell me! Where are they?' Number One yelled.

Soon the two women were in an all out fight. They were kicking, punching and yelling at each other.

I got up and grabbed one of Mama Gretchen's flailing arms and pushed it hard behind her back in a half-nelson.

Mama Gretchen screamed in pain.

'Tell us,' I said as I pushed her arm up higher with both my hands.

'It is done. It's over. Twenty-three, I see you've turned against me as well. You have no idea how much you have hurt me. I assure you, you will regret this. Let go of me and I'll tell you exactly where your sisters are,' Mama Gretchen said in a defeated voice.

I let go and Number One backed away a few steps. I noticed that Number One had a trickle of blood underneath her nose.

Mama Gretchen said, 'Just let me get their addresses from my communicator.'

Number One nodded assent. The older woman went to her bags. She bent down, reached inside the medical kit grabbed a hypospray. Quickly she jabbed it into her other arm.

As she crumpled to the ground I heard Number One scream, "Nooooo!"

I ran to Mama Gretchen and put my hand to her neck. There was no pulse. I looked up to my sister and shook my head back and forth. Number One ran over and placed her fingers to the same part of Mama Gretchen's neck.

'Damn. Twenty-three, listen closely. Do not touch anything around Mama Gretchen. Leave her there. No matter what, don't touch the hypospray. I want you to help me copy the information off those drives. Do as I say quickly.'

Number One got three ultra small portable drives out of her duffle bag. These tiny drives were used around the lab to store data for a short period of time, until it could be transferred to a larger backup that had built in redundancy. They were handy because they were high capacity and tiny, smaller than an old fashioned postage stamp. They had their downsides. Since they were built for size not durability, a portable drive could be corrupted easily. They had high fail rates. If you weren't careful, you could also easily misplace them. That is why they were not used for long term data storage.

Then, Number One pulled out two minicomputers. I had seen these around the lab. They were just slightly larger than the PADD I used for my studies. The minicomputer had a keyboard that slid out. This was handier than a PADD if you needed to do a great deal of typing. Their processors were very fast. Their wireless transfer speeds were incredibly quick as well. Assistants could send a lesson, syllabus, or an entire textbook to the student's PADD in milliseconds. I now knew why Number One's duffle seemed to be splitting at the seams. My sister, who never met a piece of technology that she didn't like, had tried to take the whole laboratory with her.

Anyway, she took the larger drives containing the Schnell Laboratory research. She handed me one of the minicomputers, a portable drive and one of Mama Gretchen's larger storage drives. Both of us worked together. Number One capably and calmly instructed me what to do. She said that the drives with the information on them were strongly encrypted. We would not be able to just send the information over. We would have to make exact images of the drives and then relay that over to the portables. She would work on breaking the passwords and deciphering the information on them later. She told me that she was sure these drives would tell us where our sisters were. She knew that Mama Gretchen was fanatical about recording and documenting everything.

It only took a few minutes to make exact images of the drives and transfer the data to the portables. She gave the tiny drives to me. She told me to hide them on myself where no one would find them. I put one in my hair, and secured it with my hairclip. I put one in the bra I'd only recently started wearing. The third I put down in my sock.

'Good,' Number One said as she wiped Mama Gretchen's drives with a sock from her duffle and put them back exactly as she had found them.

She put her minicomputers and sock back in her bag. Then, Number One called the police.

I saw Number One take her finger off the com unit and slowly kneel down to the floor. Deep sobs racked her body. I was no longer distracted with transferring the information over to the portables. Now, my composure crumbled as well. I sat next to my sister and put my arms around her for the first time ever. I don't know how long we sat like that, bawling, our dead mother a few feet away. At some point, Number One gently pulled my shoulders away from her. She looked at me intensely, her light blue eyes glistening. Softly, she touched my face, wiping away some of my tears with her fingers.

'Twenty-three, I want you to understand. We did nothing wrong. I want you to tell the police everything that happened. I will do the same. We have nothing to hide, nothing. In fact, I believe the police may help us find the other girls. They will investigate and find out what happened. No matter what, I will not leave you. We are a team now. We will make a life here and a home. We will find everyone and bring them back. Until then, we are the first. We are the first, together, a team. Is that ok with you, Twenty-three?

I looked at her and slowly nodded, 'Okay, teammate.'

I wondered if she could sense my hesitancy. I didn't know what to think. I knew that Number One wanted my sisters back as badly as I did. I heard the fury in her voice when she questioned Mama Gretchen about their location. I saw her tears. Who was she crying for though? Was it for Mama Gretchen, the missing girls, or herself? Was her sadness over not being the first anymore? Without our sisters, Mama Gretchen and the laboratory, she was just as lost as I was. I didn't know the answers. I knew that I was eleven years old and powerless. I knew that without her, I'd be completely and utterly alone in a foreign place. I knew that I was glad she was there. I just hoped she knew what she was doing."


	9. Chapter 9

"The police came into the apartment, followed by the apartment manager. The older lady screamed at the sight of Mama Gretchen lifeless on the floor. An officer led her out of the room. Number One and I were led away by different officers. I was brought into the kitchen. Number One was led into the bedroom by a female officer. I somehow knew that they were separating us so we could not share stories. There were two officers in the kitchen with me. Someone must have called for backup because soon there were people measuring and taking pictures around Mama Gretchen's body.

The female officer started by asking me my name and my age. I told her my name was Number Twenty-three. I could tell by the look on her face that she thought my name was odd.

'Honey, your name is Number Twenty-three? Are you sure?'

'Yes ma'am. My name is Number Twenty-three.'

The officer looked at me, still confused. 'So, Number is your first name and Twenty-three is your last name?'

"Yes ma'am,' I nodded in the affirmative.

I guessed that was right. I wasn't sure. Perhaps Number should be my last name since it was the part of my name that all my sisters shared. I really had no idea. I supposed it didn't matter. I doubted our births were legally recorded. It occurred to me that Schnell might actually be my official last name, if I had one. It was after all my mother's given name. I wasn't so sure that I wanted to be a Schnell. My sisters were never Schnells. I wanted my name to stay the way it had always been.

They asked me to tell what happened. I figured I'd give them the bare minimum. Number One could fill them in on everything much better than I could. I started with the fight and ended my summary with Mama Gretchen on the floor. They asked me the names of my missing sisters. I started with Number Two and continued up to Number Nineteen. The male officer stopped me.

'Number Twenty-three, how many sisters do you have?' He asked.

'Sixty-eight, Sir.' I replied.

'And, all of your sisters have numbers for names?'

'Yes, Sir.' I said.

The two officers stepped away and spoke to quietly for me to hear. They then led me away. They put me in their police vehicle and transferred me to the child protective agency that placed me into a foster home."

Christine's mouth was dry from delivering the long narrative. She took a drink of water and glanced at her lawyer.

"Mr. Erskine, can I take a small break before I continue? I need to use the restroom and stretch my legs a bit, please."

"Very well," John Erskine pressed the button to summon the guard who escorted Christine out of the room.

After the door shut, McCoy let out a whistle.

"That was some story. I had no idea that she had gone through so much. I don't know how she did it, to go through that sort of childhood and then go on to become a CMO in Starfleet."

"Indeed." Spock replied, "The odds of that happening are .0000438%"

McCoy took a deep breath and shook his head. McCoy noticed that Spock did not recite the equation with his usual know-it-all gusto. McCoy still had to come up with a sarcastic reply. Jim would expect it. The doctor opened his mouth and looked at Spock. Kirk wished to avoid McCoy's response to Spock's calculations, however. He was in no mood for their normal banter.

He quickly turned to Erskine and cut McCoy off, "Will her background help in her defense?"

"Well, I can definitely use it, if the case was to go to trial, no judge or jury would be unaffected by her childhood circumstances. Clearly, this information relates directly with her desire to free the clones on Goleea. It's strange, I've tried to get information on any sort of criminal activity at the Groler Facility on Goleea and have found absolutely nothing. I've also tried to find out about cloning at the facility and have come up empty. I'm beginning to wonder…. we will have time to talk about this later. As for how Christine's childhood affects the case, it really depends on what sort of defense she wishes me to mount. She told me yesterday that she wished to plead guilty. I suspect that she might have changed her mind since she agreed to this meeting. I want to get as much information out of her as I can now. She could change her mind again and clam up on us at any time. She's been through a lot of trauma. A lot of folks will cop a plea rather than go to trial. People try to avoid having to retell their story and live through the pain of their experiences again in court. I've seen completely innocent people plea bargain to avoid a trial. I want to get as much information as I can out of her now, while she's talking. We can question her and strategize later. I can pull all the police reports and records on Gretchen Schnell tonight. I'll send you all copies of what I find. Feel free to do your own research as well. Just make sure you send me a copy of everything you find."

"Yes, we will be sure to do that. Thank you, Mr. Erskine, Kirk said.

Christine came back in the room. Her face was pale, her eyes red. She dutifully sat back down in her seat. She looked at each of her lawyers. Erskine and McCoy had not changed in their demeanor. Erskine still radiated professional detachment, McCoy compassion. She noticed that Kirk no longer looked angry. His eyes were kind. He seemed uncomfortable to be sitting in the chair. He was fidgety, perhaps impatient. She noticed that Spock's expression had also changed. He was composed, of course. Yet, she sensed sadness in his soft brown eyes. There was sadness and something else, something she couldn't quite pin down. Christine knew she was no telepath. However, she also was aware that her intuition was sound. She had developed it as a nurse and nurtured it as a doctor. It had helped her often in the sickbay. Looking at Spock across the table, Christine somehow knew that he still had an open mind. He had not already condemned her as she had believed just a short while ago.

Earlier, she had felt so shamed; she could not even look at him. Now, she felt drawn to him. She could not take her eyes off of him. So, she continued her story, telling it only to Spock. She ignored everyone else was in the room. She realized that after her initial shame and discomfort, she found it strangely comforting to finally talk to Spock about her past. It was like revealing her darkest, most dreaded secrets to her best friend.

"So, I went to a foster home. There's not much to tell about that experience. I was there for maybe three days. They had other children there. There were two girls and a boy. I was still shell-shocked and I guess everyone in that house knew it. I don't remember having much conversation with the kids, or their mother. I did eat my first home cooked meal there. It was salad and lasagna. I remember being surprised by the coolness of the salad and the warmth of the lasagna. The food was surprisingly soft and squishy. It stuck to the top of my mouth and got between my teeth. I swallowed it easily with a minimal amount of chewing. It was delicious. That night I had my first upset stomach.

On my second day in the foster home, a child advocate came to interview me. I don't remember her name. She was a short, youngish woman. The advocate was nice and easy to talk with. She explained that she would be on my side in court. She would see to it that my wishes were heard. When I heard her say court, I was afraid I might be going to jail. I asked her if I was in trouble. She told me that I wasn't in any trouble. The court would just help in finding the best living situation for me. She asked me where I wanted to live. I told her that I wanted to go back to the apartment with Number One. She asked about my schooling and what my favorite things were. I explained how I had gone to school in the building I lived in. I told her that I loved to read and my favorite thing was an antique book. I quickly regretted telling her about the book. It had been Mama Gretchen's and I had taken it without asking. Maybe, she'd take the book away from me. Or worse, I wondered if she was going to put me in jail for theft.

The advocate picked me up from the foster home and took me to court the next day. It really wasn't like court at all. We went into a room. Number One was already there by herself. She was eighteen and didn't require an advocate. She was allowed to express her own wishes directly to the judge. The advocate sat next to me. There was a psychologist and a school representative in attendance. The judge took a seat at the head of the table. The judge explained that Number One and I had been cleared by the police of any wrongdoing. The forensic evidence showed that without a doubt Mama Gretchen had self-administered the hypospray, containing an overdose of sedative. They believed she was depressed over monetary and professional setbacks. The police were still investigating the disappearances of our sisters. They had confiscated Mama Gretchen's suitcase. So, they had the drives containing all her research data. They released Number One's duffle and my suitcase to us.

The judge ordered us to be tested academically so we could be placed in the proper school environment. She also required us to see a physician and a dentist. She was going to mandate four hours of therapy from the psychologist a week for both of us. After the judge explained the requirements, we all had a discussion. The Judge and the other professionals listened to what Number One and I wanted and helped make it happen. It was decided that since Number One was of legal age and wished to be my guardian and I had requested to live with her as well, the court would allow it. We would receive a stipend to live on until Number One found work. Evidently, Mama Gretchen had a very small amount of savings. Inexplicably, she had paid the first year's rent for the apartment on Page and Fillmore in advance. Since the apartment was already paid up, we agreed that it made the most sense to stay there. It was a good thing that neither Number One nor I was squeamish about what happened our first day at the apartment. I don't know about Number One, but I had immediately liked the brightly painted, older building. I thought the apartment itself was cute. We would be monitored by the psychologist, advocate and school authorities to ensure that we were doing okay by ourselves. The court would offer all the support necessary for us to start our new lives.

The judge asked us if we would like to have new names. She felt it might help us assimilate better. Both Number One and I declined. I was surprised to learn that Number One felt the same way I did. She did not want to change her name because she wanted our sisters to be able to look us up and find us. Neither of us felt our names would hinder us as we started over in San Francisco. As I suspected, neither of us had an official record of birth. The judge would submit the proper forms and would send us birth certificates. It was decided we would share the last name Number. Our first names would be listed as One and Twenty-three.

We were given a ride home. The advocate was proud to show us the work that had been done in the apartment. A replicator had been installed in the kitchen. Someone had also thoughtfully stocked the cabinets with the basics for a homemade meal. Noodles, spices, vegetables and fruits had been provided. Neatly placed on shelves were glassware, plates, silverware, pots and pans. The living spaces in the apartment had been tastefully if simply furnished. A small kitchen table shared the living room with a sofa, coffee table and big comfy chair. Each bedroom had a bed, nightstand and dresser. There were towels in the bathroom and linen on the bed. The advocate proudly showed us our new clothing and shoes in the closet. She told us that it would help us to fit in better if we did not wear lab coats or clothing with our name labels outside the apartment. The advocate explained that they knew we would be busy with our doctor appointments, schooling and making new friends. They wanted to help us out a bit. I was relieved that they had taken care of these things for us. I wouldn't have even known what was necessary in an apartment. I don't know how Number One felt. She was very quiet. I know we weren't effusive enough in our thanks. I sensed that the advocate wanted us to say more. I didn't know the right words to say. I was relieved when she left and Number One and I finally were alone.

As soon as the advocate left, I took of my shoes and pulled a portable drive out of one of my socks. I then reached in my bra and took the second and third drive out. Number One looked at me, a bit confused.

'Didn't you have one of those in your hairclip?' She asked.

'I did, but I was afraid that the static electricity in my hair might erase it. Besides, I decided I was lopsided." I told her touching my breasts.

Number One laughed at me. 'Twenty-three, are you serious?'

'Well, about the static electricity I am.' I said back.

Number One shook her head.

'You're a very silly human being. It's true that those little chips are sensitive. The data is so compressed. But, unless you were playing with a Tesla coil in that foster home, I doubt you generated enough static electricity to short circuit anything.'

'How can you be so sure?' I asked. 'I was always told to be extra careful with them.'

Number One replied, 'I'm sure, because I invented them, silly. Anyway, Thanks for keeping them safe. We'll copy them over to the minicomputer and break the encryption. I've called the police cyber crime division every day. They have Mama Gretchen's original hard drives. They haven't been able to get into any of the files yet. They tell me that they've never had such a hard time decoding a password. I'm so glad you helped me copy the information so I can work on it here. I know that I'll be able to get into them. After all, I know Mama Gretchen's methodologies better than anyone.'

Number One transferred the image files off the portables and onto a mini-computer. She gave me a half smile.

'Got them, they're all intact. Soon, we'll have to rent every apartment in this place to hold the entire Number family'

I looked at Number One and returned her smile. The picture of all my sisters together in the old creaky apartment building was a happy one. I sincerely hoped we would all be together soon.

Number One got up from the computer.

'Hey Twenty-three, can I ask you something? Do you mind if we move my bed into your bedroom? We could make my bedroom our workroom, sort of a mini-laboratory. We can put the computers and science equipment in there.'

'Well sure, if you want to do that, it's fine. I thought you'd want to have a room to yourself, since you had a room to yourself in the lab.' I replied.

'I hated being in that huge room by myself. It was so quiet and creepy. I would see all those empty bunk beds and remember everyone who was gone. It almost drove me crazy.' Number One said.

I was flabbergasted.

'Number One, why didn't you ask to stay over in our room?'

'Well, I knew I wasn't a part of your group. I felt like you guys wouldn't want me. I knew that I wasn't a favorite. Even as a teacher, I wasn't the most popular. It would have felt awkward for all of us.'

She was right, of course.

'Well, you still could have asked,' I lamely replied."

Authors Note: Again, I want to thank everyone who is still reading my story. Please review. RL will probably keep me from posting chapters as quickly. I will try my best.


	10. Chapter 10

"Number One did well with her academic testing. She proved herself to be the genius I already knew she was. Soon she was at UC Berkeley studying computer science. There was a bit of a debate about where I should go to school. The school official believed I should be placed in the sixth grade at a middle school, based strictly on my age. The psychologist felt that based on my psychological and academic testing, I would fit in better at a high school. That didn't make sense to me. Why would I fit in better with older children as opposed to kids my own age? I'd always gotten along fine with my same birth year sisters. The psychologist said that I was very tall for my age. She also said that I lacked the childish attributes of a typical eleven year old. I couldn't tell from her tone whether she thought this was a good or bad thing. At any rate, it was decided that I would tour a middle school and a high school. I would not get to choose the school. It would ultimately be decided by the school district. Number One as my guardian, the psychologist and I did have input, however.

We visited Marina Middle School and Galileo Academy of Science and Technology. After observing my peer group at Marina, and seeing the vastly superior lab facilities at Galileo, I was inclined to agree with the psychologist. I really felt that Galileo would be the better fit. In truth, I had been shocked by my visit to Marina Middle School. We went into a World History class. The children were giggly, fidgety and loud. Of course, I was the same age as these squirmy students, but they seemed so much younger. The teacher had to raise her voice and threaten them to get started with the lesson. Once she began, the kids settled down and listened. Their study mainly involved outlining events and dates in history. The study seemed adequate. However, I noted that there was little discussion between the teacher and the students. The whole presentation seemed shallow and a bit dull.

I wouldn't say that I was blown away by my trip to Galileo, but it was better. We visited a room where the study was calculus. It was quiet. The teacher was writing equations on a PADD that was projected onto a large screen. He was explaining the calculations. The students were taking notes. As in the middle school, there was an even mixture of boys and girls in the class. By this time, I had gotten more used to seeing human males. I had met the police officer and the boy at the foster home. I had seen men when I used public transportation around the city. As I looked around this classroom, I noticed the young men sitting in their desks, scrawling equations on their PADDs. I didn't know why but they made me a bit nervous. We left the calculus room and took a little tour of the campus. I was impressed the most when we poked our head into a chemistry lab. The room was well equipped. The students seemed to be engaged in real experiments. The teacher moved around the room as the students, paired in twos, were working with their scoopulas, cover slips and high-powered microscopes.

In the end, I got my way and was enrolled in Galileo. Whether or not this was the best decision, I'm still not sure. I certainly did not fit in there. I did well academically, but was a social outcast. On my first day at public school, I scanned for faces similar to mine by habit. There were none. All I saw were strangers. When I was in the classroom, sitting quietly, attending to my studies, I was fine. It was during break and lunch that I felt awkward. I did not know how to approach my fellow students. No one tried to approach me. I would eat quickly and go to the library until class began again. I didn't seem to fit in anywhere except at home.

It seemed like Number One was having an easier time of it. She was very busy. She split her days between classes and studies at Berkeley, hanging out with the computer specialists at the police department, trying to help break the code to get into Mama Gretchen's hard drives, seeing the psychologist, and trying to give me a decent home life.

At first, we'd use the replicator for meals. It was a fun novelty in the beginning. We tried everything we could think of, cuisine from different countries and then from different galaxies. We loved it. One day we decided to try out the old stove and the stock of food the advocate left for us. Home cooking was even better. It tasted and smelled so good. We'd make pasta, rice, and falafels as a main course. Of course, we'd also have desserts and snacks. Our favorite was buttered popcorn. We'd make a batch, shaking the pot like crazy on the ancient stove until it popped and popped. Then, we would add melted butter. We'd spread a blanket on the floor, turn on an old movie, and eat buttered popcorn on the floor. Sometimes, Number One and I would have a mini-food fight and throw popcorn at each other. I even watched Laurence Olivier play Heathcliff, laying on my blanket, with a piece of popcorn in my nose, more in my hair, and butter dripping down my chin. It's a good thing old Heath couldn't see me through the screen. Anyway, I thought Sir Laurence made a fine Heathcliff. He was dark, brooding and sexy. I was however, very disappointed that the movie covered only a small portion of the book.

One day, Number One told me that she'd never make it into Starfleet Academy if she was fat and out of shape. This was the first hint that she gave about her future plans. She also said that as my guardian, it was her responsibility to make sure that I was fit and healthy as well. We found that it was just as easy and almost as delicious to make low calorie meals in our little kitchen. We would do calisthenics in the apartment and started to jog around the panhandle of Golden Gate Park. I grew to love breathing the fresh air and feeling the sun on my back as I worked my legs in a steady cadence. Number One would set a pretty fast pace and I would work hard to keep up. As we grew stronger, we'd jog all the way across Stanyan Street and into the main part of the park. Sometimes, we'd then stop at the tea garden or one of the museums before jogging back home. I began to believe that Number One could make almost anything seem fun. I say almost because I still had to go to high school and therapy.

Every week we went to see Dr. Litchfield, the psychologist assigned to us. We'd take municipal transit to her office. We each had two hours of individual and two hours of group therapy a week. Dr. Litchfield was not intimidating. She didn't seem like a medical professional at all. Her looks and manner reminded me more of the kindly ladies at Galileo who worked in the cafeteria. Her short, round body seemed to be swallowed up by the big, leather office chair she sat in. She would always be sucking on a breath mint and would offer me one. Sometimes, I would take one just to be polite. Other times, I would decline because I didn't want to appear greedy. During our individual sessions she always wanted to talk about my feelings, particularly my feelings about Mama Gretchen and my missing sisters. I did not want to tap into that well of confusion, anger and sadness. I would ask her to help me fit in with the kids at high school as a deflection. The doctor was patient and did not push me to talk about things I didn't want to. She tried to help me learn how to make friends in high school by role playing. I'd play a kid in class and Dr. Litchfield would be me. I was horrible at playing a high school student. I don't think Dr. Litchfield was very good at playing me either. She played me as a confident and accepting classmate. In actuality, I was awkward, timid and totally clueless on how to socialize with a peer. The whole role playing exercise made me feel dumb and uncomfortable.

I found the group sessions a little more bearable. That's because Number One was with me. With Number One there, Dr. Litchfield was able to probe into those areas I was unwilling to discuss. Mainly, Number One did the talking. I sometimes learned interesting things. For instance, I learned that Number One was having a tough time handling the guilt of not being able to immediately break the encryption of Mama Gretchen's hard drives. The therapist had us both acknowledge that we were grieving the loss of our sisters. This was no revelation to me. I knew that Number One wanted our sisters back. I knew she felt the loss. What I didn't realize was how the extra responsibility of trying to get at the information in those drives ate at her. I saw her working on the encryption of the hard drives late into the night, after she finished her schoolwork. I heard her talk on the com to her friends in the police department, hoping they were having more success than she was. In therapy, she broke into tears and talked about how frustrated and guilty she felt that she had been unsuccessful so far. Number One felt that she was failing all of us. Dr. Litchfield tried to make Number One realize that she didn't bear sole responsibility for breaking the encryption. She assured her that everyone knew she was doing the best that she could. I could tell that Number One remained unconvinced.

Another thing I discovered was that Mama Gretchen was a virulent misandrist. She despised all men. As her protégée, Number One was trained to share these feelings. Mama Gretchen never explained why she hated men to Number One. She would tell her that no man would ever accept an intelligent woman. She said that men always sabotaged women in the workplace. She said men caused wars and suffering. Men were simply evil and never to be trusted. Mama Gretchen's man-hate explained certain things to me. I figured that was why all of our assistants were women. It was also why I didn't have any brothers. I'm sure that Mama Gretchen could have changed an X chromosome into a Y easily, if she wanted boy babies.

Dr. Litchfield was helping Number One reconcile her feelings for her male friends against all the vitriol Mama Gretchen had put in her head about men. They were working on this in their private sessions. Number One had made friends with men at the police department computer lab and at UC Berkeley. Dr. Litchfield brought this issue up in the group session because she wanted to know if Mama Gretchen had soured me on males as well. I felt fortunate to be able to assure both Dr. Litchfield and Number One that Mama Gretchen had never ever spoken to me about men. She had barely spoken to me at all, except for that one time when we were packing.

I learned something else in group therapy. Number One told Dr. Litchfield that Mama Gretchen experimented by putting different mixtures of hormones and enzymes into the amniotic fluid. This was the liquid that surrounded and helped nourish the fetuses in their artificial uteruses. Number One said that her original concoction was designed to create super intelligent babies. She believed that she had been successful in raising the IQs of her babies. She could measure our superior intelligence through standard testing. Evidently, as her children grew older, Mama Gretchen felt that they were too cold and not caring enough toward her. Now, she wanted to make smart children who would understand her and her suffering. She wanted children who would love and nurture her. She began to experiment by adding extra ingredients to the amniotic fluid, which she believed would make kinder, more empathetic children. Number One didn't understand the process, but she knew that Mama Gretchen was frustrated and felt the experiment was unsuccessful. She told Number One that if she had only been more compassionate, she would not have to do this extra work. Mama Gretchen said that Number One was cold and unfeeling, little more than a machine. Number One said that Mama Gretchen felt all of the children lacked compassion. However, she only openly criticized Number One for her deficit, never the rest of us. Of course, Number One was hurt by Mama Gretchen's cruel assessment. That's why she had discussed it during her individual therapy. I tried to assure Number One that she wasn't cold. She was very kind to me. I don't think she believed me. Poor Number One, Mama Gretchen had really messed with her psyche. For all that I hated my individual sessions; I was glad that Dr. Litchfield seemed to be helping Number One.

Not long after we both started school, Number One got a job. One of her professors at UC Berkeley had been commissioned to head a project to develop a new computer system to be used on intergalactic space vessels. This professor, Dr. Lee picked Number One to help with the project. The really nice thing was that much of the work could be done at home. Number One was so excited.

'Imagine Twenty-three,' She would say as she was bent over a computer, working on a scripting command, 'If we do this right, our system might be used throughout Starfleet.'

Number One even let me help her out. I would do some of the easier coding, under her supervision. It felt good to help her and I liked the work. The most fun was when Number One started working on the computer generated voice. This new computer system would recognize spoken commands. It would also respond verbally. This was not an innovation. Computers had been programmed to respond to human language and speak with a synthetic voice before. What was revolutionary about the design Dr. Lee and Number One had created, was the extent two-way verbal communication would be used by the computer. The goal was to make accessing the computer exactly like communicating with a human being. It was programmed to understand and respond to anything said to it. Number One wanted it to have a natural sounding speaking voice. To do this, she recorded her voice on sound files for the computer to access. She wanted a huge sample for the computer to utilize. It was time consuming so Number One asked me to help. While working on this part of the project, we discovered that our speaking voices were almost identical. So, we both recorded the sound files that would become the computer's voice.

Unfortunately, the new project just added on the pressures Number One already faced. She still wanted to spend hours a day trying to crack the encryption on Mama Gretchen's drives. Number One was only sleeping about three hours a night. One day, I came home from school to find my sister in the workroom. Her long legs were splayed out in front of her in an awkward knock-knee position. She was leaned way back, her head facing the ceiling. Her hair, once pony-tailed, had for the most part, escaped from the rubber band and was everywhere. Her mouth was opened and she was loudly snoring. She had a minicomputer on her lap; a terminal was on at the desk in front of her, and PADDS all over the floor. I thought of all the sacrifices she had made for me. She cooked, jogged and chatted with me when she was already so busy. She had done so much in such a short amount of time. She was the kindest, most intelligent person I had ever known. Imagine, she had actually invented those tiny storage drives! She had been mentally abused by Mama Gretchen but had worked to overcome it. She was even brave enough to face everything in therapy. That was something I could not bring myself to do. She was still working to reunite our family. She had not given up on finding our sisters. It struck me as I looked at her through the doorway that I was in love for the first time. The only kind of love I had ever thought about as a kid was the romantic kind. The kind I would find with my own Heathcliff. This was very different from that, of course. It was more like the love of a child for her mother. I thought of how much I now trusted and depended on her. I felt like I would do anything for her. Looking at her, spread out in the chair, I knew how angry she would be when she realized that she had allowed herself to nap. She'd probably be even angrier if she knew I'd witnessed her failure to stay awake. So, I went back outside and slammed the front door very loudly.

I resolved to make Number One proud of me. So, I decided I'd try to open up to Dr. Litchfield more in my individual therapy. I also told myself that I would really try to put her suggestions in practice at school. I went out for the girl's basketball team and joined the science club. I spoke to some kids during lunch. I'll admit that I didn't go up to the group of really popular kids who prominently took over the best spot in the school's courtyard. Honestly, I had nothing in common with them and had no desire to befriend them. I went and ate my lunch with a small group of boys and girls I recognized from my physics class. I'm not going to say that I made any best friends, but they let me eat with them. That was a start. Gradually I gained a few school friends. I lost my absolute dread of Galileo High. I learned to dislike school in a less intense way, meaning I hated it just like every regular kid did. Months passed and slowly I felt like I was gaining a new life. With Number One and Dr. Litchfield helping me with every small step, I was learning how to be a normal girl."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"I was sitting at the kitchen table eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, on the day that Number One finally made progress in unlocking Mama Gretchen's hard drives. I sat with a large glass of milk and my sandwich. I was careful to chew thoroughly and drink a good sip of milk after each bite. I learned not to eat plain peanut butter when I almost choked on it, soon after moving to San Francisco. Now, I always had my peanut butter with cold milk. Number One came storming into the apartment without giving me a glance. She immediately went to the workroom. She always stopped to at least greet me when she came home. I knew something was happening. So, I followed her into the workroom.

'Hey One, what's up?' I asked.

'Hey, Twenty-three. I got an idea today when I was in class. I want to try it out,' Number One focused on her computer again.

'Can I help?' I offered, craning my neck to see what she was doing.

'Nah, it's ok,' One replied, without looking at me.

It didn't seem like she wanted my help. She was even more engrossed than normal with the symbols that flashed across the monitor.

I left the room to put the peanut butter, jelly and milk away. I was just settling in with my calculus homework when I heard noise coming from the workroom.

'Oh my god, oh my god, It worked! I did it! I can't believe it!'

Number One was screaming and dancing around the room like a crazy person.

'What, what happened?' I asked.

'Look!' Number One said, pointing at the screen.

On the monitor where I saw just symbols and numbers before, there was now a box and the words: Enter Password.

'I've finally broken the encryption code. You see, I was reading about older computer programming practices for a report I'm doing for school. I stumbled upon a manual that explained 512-bit symmetric-key encryption that was in use about twenty years ago. It got me thinking. I was trying to break the code with more modern algorithms. So, I found some old commercial encryption programs that were in use around the time Mama Gretchen started storing her lab data. I saved the files and brought them home. I ran the encryption programs one by one. This one worked! Now we just need to figure out the password.'

'I'm surprised that we have to type something in. Aren't most computers activated by a voice pattern, retinal scan or thumbprint?' I asked, trying to sound smart.

Number One looked at me like I was the stupidest person on earth.

'How would a biometric password be secure in a lab full of clones?' Number One shook her head back and forth surprised that I had not thought of this automatically. I think if my sister had been standing closer, she would have thumped my forehead with her knuckles and listened for the echo.

Number One stopped being exasperated and patiently explained, 'See, I'm thinking that Mama Gretchen had these files set so when you would access them, the encryption program was already on the drive. You were just prompted to enter the password. She didn't use a biometric password because we all would have been able to get into her files. Since we all would have the same physical characteristics, it would open for any of us. I'm thinking that she must've deleted the encryption program before we moved. I don't really know why she would do that, unless she was afraid of something. Well, I don't really care about any of that right now. I need to figure out this password.'

Number One bent over the keyboard and started entering words. I watched her for about twenty minutes and then left the room. When I came back about two hours later, the glee was gone from Number One. She looked frustrated.

'OK, I'm not going to spend another six months trying to figure out a damned password! Twenty-three, do you have any idea what word Mama Gretchen would use?'

I started throwing out words and phrases, science and math terms mainly, since I knew that's what Mama Gretchen liked. Three hours later, I was exhausted and we still hadn't found the right password. Number One told me to go to bed. She was going to run a computer program that would hack the password by going through every word in the dictionary. We both went to sleep. In the morning I woke up and got ready for school. Number One was already up and in the workroom.

'Crack it yet?' I asked.

Number One looked almost defeated, 'Nope. Twenty-three, do me a favor. Try to think of what Mama Gretchen would put as a password. I mean, really think.'

'Hey, did you forget about last night? I spent three hours trying to come up with something. Besides, how would I know what she would pick? You were closer to her than I was. She barely spoke to me. Why do you think I'd know?' I asked exasperatedly.

'Yes, but…look. Do you remember that day in group when I was telling Dr. Litchfield about the experiments to make the babies more empathetic?'

Number One stared at me with an intense gaze.

'Yeah.' I said, almost sure I didn't like where this conversation was going.

'Well, I didn't want to tell Dr. Litchfield this, I wanted to protect you. I suppose that it's your right to know. I think you might be able to guess the password because you have a deeper understanding of Mama Gretchen's emotional side. You see, Mama Gretchen told me that she thought the empathy experiment was successful, one time. She said that she noticed that you, Twenty-three, were the kindest and most caring of all the offspring. She saw you bandaging up the younger kids when they scraped themselves. She noticed that you always wanted to hold and care for the younger babies. So, she looked back at her lab notes. Evidently, at the moment they were attaching your embryo to the artificial uterine device, there was a slight power surge throughout the building. Mama Gretchen believed this electrical stimulation activated the empathetic chemicals floating in the artificial sac. She thought that this made you kinder and more caring than the rest of us. She believed you were preprogrammed to experience other people's emotions. She tried to replicate the results, but only managed to kill several embryos in the process. She eventually gave up. I don't know. I never really believed that you were different. I thought she was looking for something that wasn't there. I mean, I know I had feelings. I cared about all my sisters. I just wasn't good at showing it. I thought we all had normal emotions. Now, I'm not so sure. Since living with you, I've seen that you do tend to put everyone else first…'

'Well, so do you, Number One!' I interrupted. You've put me first ever since we moved to San Francisco. Of course, you have feelings! You were right. All of us were perfectly normal. I don't think Mama Gretchen caused us to be smarter or more caring through hormones and enzymes. I mean, we went to school ten hours a day! Of course, we did well academically. Do you remember all the laughter and fun we'd have? Mama Gretchen was just wrong. We were raised in a sterile, unloving environment. Maybe, that caused us to be a bit more detached. None of us were cold. Besides, I'm not always the kindest person. I certainly don't always put others first. If I did, I would have stopped Mama Gretchen after our first sibling disappeared. I would have realized that something weird was going on. Anyway, I got to leave. I got to get to school.'

Number One accepted my excuse for a hasty retreat.

"Okay, we'll talk later. Please, think about the password, though.'

'All right,' I said as I grabbed my backpack and left the apartment.

As I walked over to the 22 - Filmore transit stop, my mind was awash with thoughts and feelings. I was mad at Number One for laying this on me, right before I had to go to class. I wondered about the implications of what she had told me. I already felt different from other people. Now, I learned that Number One thought I wasn't even the same as the rest of my siblings. I felt she had taken the label 'freak' and stamped it on my forehead.

Of course, I knew that it wasn't true. I believed what I had told Number One. I was no different than my other sisters. Mama Gretchen believed it though. I was horrified to think that this is why she kept me. I had always wondered why in the end, it was Number One and I who remained. It was obvious why she kept Number One. Number One was her right hand girl. She was a computer genius. They had traveled together to conventions where Mama Gretchen had shown her off. She had groomed her to be her successor. What about me? Why would she keep me? Now, I thought I knew the answer. I thought back on the conversation we'd had that day when we were packing, before the big move.

I remembered her words, 'I believe you can understand the pain I feel. I was right about you.'

So, is this why I was spared? I was kept because I had been manipulated in the womb to be compassionate. I was designed to be Mama Gretchen's warm, supportive buddy. I wondered if I really was spared or was it a punishment that Number One and I had remained. Perhaps, my sisters had been taken to nice, loving homes. Maybe, they were happy wherever they were. It was only intuition, but I had begun to doubt that. I had gained insight into Mama Gretchen's personality since her suicide. What I had learned from group therapy and now from Number One directly had not been positive. Gretchen Schnell was clearly a very troubled woman. For that reason, I didn't think that good news laid in the information being withheld by that password. It didn't matter, though. Number One and I needed to know the truth.

I had a hard time concentrating on anything in school that day. When I got home, I went to my room and took out my most treasured possession and brought it into the workroom where Number One was still sitting, hunched over, staring at the monitor. I was still angry with her, but I knew it was irrational. She had not meant to hurt me. She had only told the truth. Besides, she was trying to find our sisters.

'Hey, didn't you go to Berkeley today?' I asked, trying to sound upbeat.

'No, nothing important is going on in my classes today, anyway. At least, there's nothing this important.' Number One said.

'I thought about the password today at school. I had an idea.' I said, holding up my Wuthering Heights book.

'What's that?' Number One asked.

'It's a book that Mama Gretchen kept.' I replied.

Number One was staring at the leather bound book.

"Oh yeah, I remember that. It was on the antique shelf in Classroom 3.' Number One said

'It belonged to Mama Gretchen. She kept it, so I thought it might be important to her. I thought we could look at it for clues.'

I handed the book over to Number One. She motioned me to pull up a chair next to her.

'It's a long shot,' Number One said, 'but, at least you thought of something. I'm out of ideas. Let's look together.'

I flipped through the thin old pages. My sister looked over my shoulder, perched in her normal position, in front of a computer keyboard. Number One typed "Emily Bronte" on the keyboard and then "Wuthering Heights", and finally "Heathcliff." Nothing happened. We noticed that in Chapter 9, page 89, someone had lightly underlined the words, "I _am _Heathcliff." We noted it and continued flipping through the book. At the end of Chapter 9, on the blank page before Chapter 10 began someone had drawn a chart lightly in pencil."

Christine picked up the PADD that John Erskine had placed next to her and made a table that looked like this:

xxxxxx**1**xxxxxx**!**xxxxxx**3**xxxxxx**F**xxxxx**5**

**1**xxxxx**A**xxxxxx**B**xxxxxx**C**xxxxx**D**xxxxx**E**

xxxxxx**F**xxxxxx**G**xxxxxx**H**xxxxx**I/J**xxxx**K**

**3**xxxxxx**L**xxxxxx**M**xxxxxx**N**xxxx**O**xxxxxx**P**

**M**xxxxx**Q**xxxxxx**R**xxxxxx**S**xxxxx**T**xxxxxx**U**

**5**xxxxx**V**xxxxxx**W**xxxxxx**X**xxxxx**Y**xxxxxx**Z**

Then, Dr. Chapel placed the PADD on the table facing her. As she continued her story, still looking only at Spock, she noticed that the First Officer took the PADD and stared at it for a few moments. Spock raised one eyebrow as he put the PADD back onto the table.

Christine went on with her narrative, "Number One lit up as she stared at the strange chart.

'It's a cipher!' She excitedly said.

'A cipher?' I asked.

'Yes! It's the most ancient form of encryption - a word puzzle. Look!'

She grabbed a PADD and wrote, 'I am Heathcliff.'

Underneath it she wrote: $F 11 3! $3 $5 11 MF $3 13 31 $F $1 $1.

'You see how each letter of the alphabet corresponds with two symbols on the grid?' She asked.

Of course, I did. It was childishly simple.

'Yeah," I responded.

Number One typed F113!$3$511MF$31331$F$1$1 into the box requesting the password and pressed enter.

The computer quickly responded to the code. The screen refreshed with new information. We were looking at a listing of the files contained on Mama Gretchen's hard drive."

Author's Note: I want to specifically acknowledge Aashlee Elizabeth and PeekabooFang for the terrific encouragement. It's great when others understand what I'm trying to do. Thank you so much! Of course I love all of you who read and review. You're all great. :)

I just got back from a trip to New York City to see my daughter who i hadn't seen for two years. It was a great six days but now it's back to my less glamorous real life.

The story will take a dark turn in the next chapter. It's a struggle for me to write. Please forgive me if I'm a bit slow in updating. I really want to give this my best!

Author's Note II: Sorry if you got alerted more than once. I didn't know how to make the table work for the puzzle and had to work on that. If someone can help me make the table for the puzzle look less weird- please email me. It worked fine in MS Word. Thanks again!

Author's Note III: I reupped this chapter because I found a super annoying typo in it. I also am giving the table another shot! I'm still looking for help with it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Number One and I just stared at the monitor for a moment.

'Oh my god, Number One what do we do now?' I said, my voice coming out in a whisper.

'Well,' Number One said, eyes still fixed unblinking on the monitor, 'I suppose I'll need to call Steve and Jake at the police's computer crime unit. We'll need their help regardless of what we find.'

She left the room and used the living room Com Unit to make the call. When she came back in, I was still in front of the computer screen. Number One stood next to me and put her hands on the keyboard. 'Okay, they'll be here soon. I think it wouldn't hurt to take a peak at what's here, while we wait for them.'

Number One sorted the files by date and opened the most recent first. It was Mama Gretchen's private journal. We both quickly and quietly read the words on the screen. I was horrified and confused by what I was reading. I did not want to disturb Number One as she read, so I didn't ask any questions.

When the buzzer rang I got up and let the officers into the house and directed them to the workroom. I went in the kitchen to make coffee and get some snacks. Even in this odd situation, I wanted to make a good impression on Number One's friends. I also needed a break from Mama Gretchen's awful words. I got out a knife, cutting board, platter and server tray. In minutes, I'd finished up with the food. I brought the snacks over to Number One, Jake and Steve. The workroom was small so it was hard to squeeze in with the tray that held the coffee and cut up fruits and veggies.

As I was walking into the room, I overheard one of the officers saying in an amused voice, 'Where's the trust, Number One? I guess we should have known that you would make copies of everything before you gave those hard drives to us.'

I remembered how Number One had wiped her fingerprints from the drives with her sock, before she had put them back into the suitcase. I knew that withholding or tampering with evidence must be illegal. I was relieved that he did not seem angry. It seemed that Number One had made friends with the right people.

When the officers saw me come in, they both stared at me and then looked back at Number One. Number One made the introductions although they were not really necessary. It was obvious who I was. I looked at Number One's face and saw that she was tense. I thought she was holding back tears. She quickly looked away and went back to work. The officer, who had been speaking earlier, thanked me and took the tray of food.

'I'm going to divide these files up between the three of us so we can go through them more quickly,' Number One said.

I had already read enough of Mama Gretchen's journal to fear that speed was no longer a priority. I stood in the doorway, not knowing what to do. I felt I had to ask or say something to my sister.

'Number One, can I help? I'm a fast reader. Give me a batch of files. I can scan for addresses. I can help find them.'

I felt my voice grow weaker and higher as I spoke. I knew that my last sentence completely lacked conviction.

Number One looked at me for a second without answering. Her sad face, concerned tone and carefully worded response, led me to believe she understood there was another unspoken question behind the one I had asked.

'No, it's not necessary, Twenty-three. There's really nothing you can do. Why don't you finish up your homework? We'll call you if we need something.'

I left the room and grabbed my backpack. I placed it beside me next to the sofa. I didn't unzip it and take out my homework. I couldn't. My head was swirling from what I had read in Mama Gretchen's journal. I sat there in deep contemplation for a while. At some point, Officer Steve quickly walked through the living room¸ on his way out the front door. I got up to check on Number One. I peered through the workroom doorway. My sister was sitting on the computer chair¸ tears were flowing down her cheeks. Officer Jake was behind Number One, his hands protectively on her shoulders. They were both still staring at the computer monitor. I felt uncomfortable, like I was interrupting something between the two of them. I was going to leave them alone when Number One looked over at me and stood up out of the chair.

'Twenty-three, come in.' Number One said, her voice sounded exhausted. 'We're going to need the help of the International Police and the State Department to track down exactly what happened to our sisters. Look, I want to be honest with you. I don't want you to have false hope. The documents we've found are not encouraging.

Officer Jake sounded concerned, 'One, she's just a kid. Maybe you shouldn't be telling her…'

'Jake, Twenty-three is strong and much older than her years. She has the right to know. They are…were her sisters too. I'm so sorry, Twenty-three. Number One started to cry harder.

Christine looked at her four attorneys. 'I suppose you want to know what we found in those journals and documents. I believe they are online. The entire contents of Mama Gretchen's hard drive were submitted to the Federation as part of the human rights investigations of New Kordhina. This information was made available online under the Freedom of Information Act. Let me see if I can find the files and send them over to your PADDs.'

Christine bent down and started clicking on her PADD. She quickly found what she was looking for. Even after all these years, Christine was very familiar with the content in the files. She started highlighting and sending the most pertinent documents to Erskine, Spock, Kirk and McCoy's PADDs.

Christine had no desire to reread the information on these files and it was not necessary. Their contents were burned deep in her mind. She would read one sentence and remember exactly what followed. Christine was determined to keep it together. She would not start crying again. She was afraid that once the tears started she would not be able to make them stop. She had to get through this with what was left of her dignity. Spock was opening up to her. Christine was sure of it. She didn't want to scare him off by having a mental meltdown.

She decided to give a brief explanation of what she had sent over to their PADDs and allowed them to read it themselves. The first document she put up was Mama Gretchen's journal entry. The first one she had read over Number One's shoulder, long ago.

"The journal entry I sent to your PADD was made two days before we left for San Francisco." Christine said, trying to keep her voice steady. She hoped that the men were already studying their PADDs and not observing her too closely.

The men looked down on their devices and saw this document:

**Schnell Biological Research: Redwood City, California Facility (SBR-RCCF)**

**Access: Confidential - Restricted to Gretchen Schnell only**

**Stardate 2251.09**

**Personal Journal**

"**In the republic of mediocrity, genius is dangerous"**

**Robert Green Ingersoll**

**I think of this quote by a great orator and fellow agnostic, when I think of my colleagues in the scientific community. Am I so dangerous because I have done what they can only dream possible? They ban me from all their societies, awards, prestigious journals and chairmanships because their small minds cannot even begin to grasp what I have achieved. They claim that I have gone forward without considering the ethical considerations of what I've created. How dare they speak of ethics, when they've destroyed my funding, and sullied my name? They do not realize that their ignorance will doom society to mediocrity for eternity. Without my discoveries, what will earth be, but another round dirt marble in the galaxy? How can my fellow scientists be so ignorant? I wanted to share my wisdom. Earth could have had my living mind, my sentient wisdom, benefiting mankind for eternity. But, now that has been ruined. It is your loss, not mine.**

**I** **know that Biotech Incorporated, Oxford University, and Dr. John Stanton found that weenie at National Health to investigate me. He came in and was so ignorant he didn't know what he was looking at.**

**I wonder. How much money they gave him to open the investigation? Those inferior, sniveling little shits! I have half a mind to fill this place with mustard gas and leave the door unlocked for all of them. Maybe I'll send out party invitations.**

**Don't think it hasn't gotten past me. Yes, I've noticed, my accusers are all men.**

**Men are so easy to hate but sometimes they are very useful. Like those idiots in New Kordhina. I've used them for funding. They paid me for what I had to dispose of anyway. They paid me a lot. Not what they were worth of course, not even close.**

**I hated to get rid of the duplicates but it was necessary. With the government coming down on me I had no choice. At least New Kordhina is primitive and the men that run it are stupider than most (I know, is that possible? It is!) Of course, they should allow women on the battlefield. Women could outwit the South Kordhinian forces much easier then men. Particularly, the duplicates I made. They would be the most intelligent soldiers of all.**

**The stupidity of the generals in New Kordhina allowed my duplicates a more humane ending. The ones I created did not have to die in the battlefield. I'm so happy that they were used to replace the damaged organs of soldiers. They were terminated painlessly by injection and disassembled for organ replacement. I'm so glad they weren't disfigured and blown apart in battle.**

**In the next day or so, I'll be leaving the laboratory and making arrangements for 1 and 23 to temporarily live with me in San Francisco. We'll move to New Kordhina and start our jobs as soon as the final arrangements have been made. **

**After South Kordhina is defeated by my great and powerful cloned army, New Kordhina will reward me with everything I need to continue my research. With the resources they raid from South Kordhina, New Kordhina will become rich. I will have the admiration of all the people for making their lives better. I will be beloved by all.**

**I wish to thank all of the people who tried to destroy my livelihood because of their own petty jealousies. Your inferiority has enabled me to secure a more powerful position. Trust that I will use it to destroy all of you! **

Everything, even the smallest things, in this first document disturbed Christine. She remembered how the use of the word 'duplicate' had infuriated her when she first read it. The word duplicate made her sisters sound like they were dispensable, merely copies. She hated the way Schnell had not even bothered to write her name and Number One's name out. By writing their names as numbers and not words Mama Gretchen had stripped them of their individuality.

Of course, it was the content of the journal entry and not Schnell's word choices that truly disturbed Christine. How could she be happy that her sisters had been terminated? Who was Gretchen Schnell?

Christine watched the men read the first document. She noticed that Kirk made a face like he had eaten something sour. Erskine turned slightly red and started to rub his forehead. McCoy looked angry. Spock was as impassive as ever.

Christine directed them to the next document on her PADD.

"This next entry was made about a year and a half earlier:"

**Schnell Biological Research: Redwood City, California Facility (SBR-RCCF)**

**Access: Confidential - Restricted to Gretchen Schnell only**

**Stardate 2250.89**

**Personal Journal**

**I fear that my greatest creations – the cloned female children, have become my biggest liabilities. With the enactment of AB 932 – Legislation to Outlaw all Experimentation and Development Of Cloned Human Embryos – all the work I have done has become illegal. I have heard rumors that the laboratory will soon be investigated for breaking the law. I absolutely can not allow anyone to discover my continuing research.**

**The scientific community that once embraced all of my work has turned against me. Like sheep, all the large universities stopped their cloning programs as soon as cloning lost favor with the general public.**

**I have lost most of my research grants. Without these funds, my bank accounts have become over withdrawn. I have gone through all my personal savings. Pleas for grants from my colleagues have gone unanswered. How short-sighted the world has become.**

**I have to feed 70 children and pay the salary of all the assistants with my personal line of credit. It will soon reach its limit. I have had to eliminate all but the most essential employees.**

**The situation has become desperate. Thank goodness for my superior mind! I have found the answer to my problems. I have been approached by the government of New Kordhina. Of course, they've followed my cloning program with great interest.**

**They have offered me the position of Chief Research Scientist. They have asked me to develop an army of cloned soldiers. I assured them that I can create whatever type of soldier they desired. Cunning, brave, aggressive or homicidal, strong, fast, whatever the generals on the front need.**

**They requested that I send some samples so they can verify my work. They will check that the DNA among the samples is identical and that they are true clones. They will be tested to prove that they are far above normal intelligence (I have assured them that they will be). They will also verify that they are in optimal health.**

**I have agreed on the condition that I am paid a fair price for what I send. They offered to compensate me handsomely for the samples. I have decided to include same-aged duplicates for the sample. I think it would be best to send some of the oldest first. **

**I will not send #1. I could not function without her. She means more to me than anything else. 1 is my greatest creation and will remain by my side as long as I'm alive. **

**I believe #23 is of greater value than the others and I will try to keep her with me as well. I hope that they will come to New Kordhina as my assistants.**

Christine was getting more and more upset. It wasn't tears she was holding back, it was anger. Gretchen Schnell was so egotistical. It was unbelievable! She actually believed she could play god. The fact that she thought of her own children as samples was unfathomable. Gretchen Schnell was a monster!

She was furious that she had _her_ face, _her_ genetic material. She imagined reaching into her own skin and tugging the veins out. She did not want _her _blood flowing under her skin. Christine did understand one thing in the passage. She knew how hard it was to function without Number One in her life. Schnell was too weak to face that. She had killed herself instead of enduring Number One's disapproval. She knew that One would never go to New Kordhina with her after what she had done. Christine had lived with her sister's absence for such a long time. The years had not diminished the pain of her disappearance.

Again, Christine waited until everyone looked up from their PADDS. She then directed them to the next journal entry she had highlighted by saying, "This entry soon followed:"

**Schnell Biological Research: Redwood City, California Facility (SBR-RCCF)**

**Access: Confidential - Restricted to Gretchen Schnell only**

**Stardate 2250.89**

**Personal Journal**

**I have received the best possible news. I have been informed that New Kordhina has finished testing on the duplicates and are very pleased. All is as I promised them. I have received payment as well as pictures and lab results on the testing done on the girls. **

**The New Kordhinians are practical people. They are not wasteful, I respect that. I remember my mama used to tell me about her father. When they had chicken dinner he would stay at the table. He would eat his chicken clean, chewing every speck of meat, skin and cartilage. He would then sit in each chair at the table and clean everyone's plate the same exact way. Only clean, white bone would remain when he got up from the table. No waste – ever.**

**Well, the New Kordhinians are like grandpa. They are not wasteful people. Since the girls were not designed for war and the New Kordhinians bureaucrats are too primitive to make use of the clones' superior minds, they will make use of their organs. The body parts of one clone can save the lives of many injured soldiers. I admire their practicality.**

Christine felt the taste of her breakfast rise to the back of her throat. She told herself that she was strong and would get through this. She was not going to be sick in front of these men. She would be strong.

Christine looked down at her PADD and addressed the group.

"This journal entry was made two weeks before we moved to San Francisco:"

**Schnell Biological Research: Redwood City, California Facility (SBR-RCCF)**

**Access: Confidential - Restricted to Gretchen Schnell only**

**Stardate 2250.81**

**Personal Journal**

**I have received verification that the final duplicates sent to New Kordhina have been terminated and utilized. As was the case with the others, this proof was sent through written and visual form.**

** I am somewhat relieved that the physical evidence of my cloning operation has now been extinguished. 1 and 23 are here with me but I am not worried about their discovery. It is normal for a woman to have two natural children. It will be easy to pass them off as such.**

Christine spoke softly, "By visual evidence she means that they sent photographs of each of the girls after their deaths. Number One and I stumbled on the file with those photos together. I know that Number One would have protected me from seeing them, if she had opened that file first. I would have done the same for her. After seeing something like that… Well it's hard to get it out of your mind. The file is titled 'photoproof' if you wish to avoid it."

Christine was relieved. She had made it through the worst part.

She then showed her counsel electronic money transfers made into Gretchen Schnell's bank account for huge amounts of money from the New Kordhina National Bank. She also used the PADDs to show e-mail correspondence arranging charter transport to New Kordhina from Redwood City on different occasions. This was the hard proof of a connection between New Kordhina and Mama Gretchen. She showed them the detailed digital medical files for all of the missing sisters. They contained heights, weights, illnesses, test results, developmental milestones, all the stuff you'd expect in a medical file and more. They were meticulous. Each file, ended with the words, 'transferred from facility on,' followed by a date. In each instance the transfer date would correspond with the date of a charter transport to Kordhina.

Christine sat quietly as the men looked through all the information. The atmosphere in the conference room had become heavy. All of her counsel, except Spock, were visibly shaken.

Erskine looked at Christine. He had worked with many distressed clients. He could tell that Christine's composure was fading fast. He decided to force her to go on before she shut down altogether.

Erskine broke the silence, "All right, we can go through this information more thoroughly tonight. I'd really like to hear what happened next. How did your sister react to what she had found? What did you two talk about after you had read all of this? I can't imagine what you would say to each other. Please, tell me what happened next."

Christine said, "Well, Number One was in a horrible state. After we left the workroom and sat down on the couch in the living room, she silently looked at me. I've never seen anyone so sad. Her face was a portrait of despair. She sat quiet and unmoving. It was as if she was in great physical pain. I didn't know what to do or say. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted her to tell me that things would somehow work out.

'Number One, are you all right?' I asked.

'Number One?' I prodded, again.

'Sweetie, what would you have me say? Are _you_ all right? I don't think you are. You don't look all right. I know I'm not. I doubt I'll ever be all right again.' Number One said.

'Then, what do we do? What do we do now?' I asked, desperately wanting an answer. I needed something to hold on to.

Again, Number One took some time before she responded.

'We hold it together. We do it for our sisters. We endure our pain and carry on for them. We seek justice for them. I want to go to New Kordhina. I have to find out what happened.'

'I want to go with you.' I said emphatically.

Number One answered, 'Okay, Twenty-three. I'll see what we can work out. We can't just fly in. I don't think New Kordhina allows outsiders to visit. There are no diplomatic relations between New Kordhina and the Federation. We'll have to work with the government and law enforcement. We'll have to let the investigators do their work. They want to track down all the assistants. They'll find out what they know. Perhaps, some of them were involved. If so they will be prosecuted.'


	13. Chapter 13

"The days after are a blur. I stopped going to school. Number One was too busy contacting law enforcement and government agencies to notice. I stayed home and read everything I could about New Kordhina. I learned of the war between New Kordhina and South Kordhina. I read about the human right violations and combat atrocities both governments had engaged in. I learned that it would be extremely difficult for us to enter the country since the Federation had no diplomatic relations with New Kordhina. There had been recent cases where outside reporters had tried to get into the country only to be arrested and jailed indefinitely.

Christine suddenly stopped and looked at Erskine, McCoy, Spock and Kirk. She just sat for a moment looking at her hands which were tightly clinched together on the table.

"It's hard for me to go on with this. Besides, does it really matter? I don't know how any of this applies to my current situation."

John Erskine answered, "I believe everything you've told us so far could be relevant to your case. I would like you to continue. Perhaps, we should all take a break?"

Christine said, "No, I'm fine. I really don't need a break. It's just difficult to talk about my sisters' deaths. I cherished each of them. They were all unique individuals. But, when I speak about them, I can't tell the story without lumping them all together in a group. I know I've forgotten a lot of their individual characteristics with time. But, I've never forgotten that each one was alive in the laboratory with me. They were my friends and my only family.

It's hard to explain. I wish I had paid more attention to them when I was younger. I wish I could hold each and every one of them in my mind forever as they were. I can't remember all the details. I can't remember our conversations. I wish I had a better memory. It's always bothered me that they disappeared off this earth and only Number One and I really knew them. Truly knew them as human beings. Perhaps, some of the lab assistants are still alive and think of my sisters now and then. I doubt it since their relationships with us were always of a professional, not personal nature. I have no way of knowing what memories any of them still have.

Number One and I loved our sisters very much. Until that awful day when we found Mama Gretchen's hard drive password, we believed that they were alive. We thought we'd all be reunited. We truly believed that. We lived for the day that we would find them. We never imagined that Mama Gretchen was so twisted and sick that she would send her own children to slaughter. How could we?

Now, I'm back on Earth. It's been years since my sisters were sent to their deaths. Number One is gone now, as well. I'm the only one left. There were sixty-nine of us and I'm the only one still alive. It's still hard for me to believe."

Spock interrupted Christine's reflections. "Dr. Chapel, it is my understanding that Number One is listed as missing and not deceased by Starfleet. Therefore, you can not be certain that you are the only sibling in your family alive."

"Spock, she has been missing for more than eight years. It is logical to conclude that she is deceased." Christine answered flatly.

McCoy gave Spock a hard look. He wanted to protect Christine from Spock's insensitivity. He knew that his pointy-eared, mathematically-gifted friend did not mean to hurt Christine. Spock could never understand an emotional, red-blooded, human woman like Dr. Chapel. He just didn't have it in him. Since their first day in sick bay together, McCoy felt a fatherly need to protect his capable and lovely nurse. McCoy had wondered from time to time what might have been. If he had not originally been her superior officer and direct supervisor, perhaps his interest in Christine would have grown romantic. As it was, his desire to protect Christine Chapel coexisted nicely with the brotherly urge he had to occasionally tease her. That is, until he noticed her infatuation with Mr. Spock. He knew that her crush on Spock would only cause her pain. He wanted Christine to find happiness with someone who would appreciate her. He knew Spock would never be able to. He felt badly for Christine. Yet, he had to poke fun at them. After all, Spock was one of his best friends. The innuendo and joking he put them through was expected of him. It was all in the name of camaraderie and good fun. However, he was aware that sometimes he could take a good joke too far. He knew that from the mortified looks Christine would sometimes give him. He now felt guilty for any embarrassment he had caused Christine. She had already been through so much. He vowed that he would never tease her again. He would only act as her protector from this day forward.

McCoy noticed that Spock had his fingers pressed together in a steeple position. He seemed to be pondering something. McCoy hoped Spock was questioning himself on how he could be such a jackass. McCoy was just was about to make sure that Spock was asking himself the right thing, when Christine began talking again. Dr. McCoy saw Spock reach his hand out and place it on top of Christine's. What the hell did Spock think he was doing? Spock wasn't a touchy-feely type of guy. McCoy knew something odd was happening. He watched the two of them closely. Christine stopped speaking and looked at Spock. First, she appeared fearful. Then, she looked as if she had a question to ask him. Finally, her face grew calm. She shut her eyes briefly and then gently slid her hand away from his. She gave Spock a gentle smile and a slight nod. Then, Christine began speaking where she had left off.

"So, I did not sleep or eat much. I poured over all the information that was recovered from Mama Gretchen's hard drive. The most horrible thing to read was Mama Gretchen's wretched journal. Her writings were so sick and twisted that sometimes I'd become physically ill. Yet, I couldn't stop from reading every awful word. I felt I owed it to my fallen sisters to understand exactly what had happened.

I really wanted to understand Mama Gretchen's psyche. I did not believe she was born without morals. At one time, she read Wuthering Heights just like I had. She must have had dreams. I'm guessing she had a mom and dad. She probably had boyfriends. There was so much I didn't know about her. I wanted to know how a respected scientist could turn into a monster. When did it happen? What was the catalyst?

Like I said before, I'd stopped going to school. This caused a mini-crisis for Number One and me. The school district informed the juvenile court that I had become a truant. They threatened to take me away from Number One and appoint another guardian for me. Number One sat me down and we talked.

'Twenty-three, maybe you'd be better off with someone else. Maybe, Mrs. Philpott would take you in.'

'Mrs. Philpott, our apartment manager?' I asked. 'You've got to be kidding me! I know she seems like a nice, old woman. I'm sure she is a great person. I don't know. I hardly ever speak to her. She looks at me funny. Surely, you've noticed how she watches us? I don't blame her. I mean, our mother committed suicide in her building, on the day we moved in. I suppose it's natural that she is wary of us. The rent was already paid, so she was stuck. She couldn't throw us out. Number One do you really want to be rid of me so badly that you'd put me with somebody I hardly know, someone who is afraid of me?'

'Twenty-three, I don't want to get rid of you. It's not that at all. There is nothing I want more than to have you here with me. But, I haven't been doing my job. I'm no parent. I didn't even notice that you weren't going to school! I can't take care of you, anymore. I failed you, I failed our sisters, and pretty soon I think I'll fail school as well. You see, I haven't been going to class, either.

You know what's the worst thing of all? Steve and Jake say that I've been interfering with their investigation. I pushed too hard for answers. They've banned me from the police station. They won't take my calls. No one at Interpol or the State Department will speak to me. I'm leaving messages everywhere and no one will get back to me. I've been completely shut out. I'm a colossal fuck up. I've messed up everything I tried to do. I think you'd be better off living with someone else. I'm not good for anything or anybody right now.'

'Please,' I implored Number One, 'Please don't send me away, not now. I need you. Don't leave me all alone! Do you know how much I love you? You said we were a team!'

I grabbed Number One's hands. I stared at her. I gave her my best orphaned puppy dog look. I would have gotten on my knees and begged if she hadn't relented. I felt I could not survive without her. If the court put me with another guardian or in a foster home, I knew I'd run away. I needed to be with the only family I had.

Luckily my begging worked.

'All right, but you got to do your part.' Number One told me. 'You have to go to school and take care of your own business. I'm not ever going to be your mother. I want us to be together, but I'm not going to baby you. I've got too much shit of my own to take care of. Oh, and if I have to leave for New Kordhina, I can't take you. You can't miss even one more day of school. If I have to leave suddenly, you'll have to cover for me.

I'm going to call Dr. Litchfield. I have to tell her why we've missed our appointments. I think she'll understand once I explain the situation to her. Maybe, she'll put in a good word for me with the judge.'

Number One and I had changed. We weren't the same as girls we were two weeks ago. We had retreated into ourselves. We hardly spoke to each other anymore. I think Dr. Litchfield sensed that immediately. One of our group therapy sessions from this period sticks in my mind. It was unusual because she took us out of the office to get gelatos.

Dr. Litchfield's office was inside the University of California, San Francisco Medical Center on Parnassus Street. It was one of those old, crazy San Francisco buildings that are built into the hillside. So, you can enter on the first floor and exit on the fourth floor and still be on ground level. It's the sort of place where it's really easy to get lost in.

This might have been the first group session we went to after we had learned the truth. Dr. Litchfield told us that she wanted to go out for ice cream. She invited us to walk with her. As we walked she told us a story about Nicole Richardson. The story continued after we got to the store and as we sat and ate our ice cream on the curb and walked back to the Medical Center.

The story went something like this:

Dr. Litchfield discovered Nicole's diary when she was going through family documents. She was searching for ideas for her master thesis. Dr. Litchfield had heard rumors of a great tragedy that had befell her family a very long time ago. She thought that there might be something in this history that would give her an idea her psychology thesis.

So, in this search she came across Nicole's diary. Nicole was a direct descendant on Dr. Litchfield's mother side. She was born in the year 1956, old earth calendar. Dr. Litchfield told Number One and me how Nicole and her whole family had lived in Indiana. They started to go to a Pentecostal church there. They loved this church because it had a charismatic leader who was forward thinking and truly tried to improve the lives of his congregation. When the church decided to move to California, Nicole's family went as well. Nicole, her two sisters and one brother, her mother and father sold their home and belongings and gave the money to the church. The pastor promised he would take care of them. They had complete faith in him. They joined their fellow church member in a big bus, excited for their new life in California.

Life was good for all of them for several years. The church eventually moved from a rural northern Californian town to San Francisco. The whole family loved the city. Nicole became a young woman and got a job with the government. She tithed practically her whole income to the church but she didn't mind. They provided her family with housing, food and companionship. All of her friends were within the church. When she left work she spent all her time at church functions.

Nicole met a young man in church named Aaron. Aaron's family was also heavily involved in church activities as well. Eventually, Nicole and Aaron fell in love. Not long after Aaron and Nicole met they noticed changes in the church. They no longer had complete trust in the pastor, Jim Jones. When Reverend Jones decided to move most of the church operations to South America, Nicole and Aaron decided they did not want to go. They decided to stay in San Francisco. They stopped attending church.

It was very difficult for them. All of Nicole and Aaron's family relocated to the People Temple's South American farm. Since all their family was in South America and they had stopped attending the San Francisco church, they had no one to rely on. They had to only depend on each other. In such an isolated environment their relationship began to deteriorate. Aaron left Nicole and moved back to Indiana, where he had a cousin he was close to.

Nicole stayed in San Francisco and continued working at her government job. One day, she woke up and turned on the radio. She learned that her family, Aaron's family and most of her friends had died in the largest mass suicide in history. Over 1,000 people died under Jim Jones's orders. It became known as the Guyana Tragedy.

Nicole did not know what to do with herself after the tragedy. She quit her job, because she felt that nothing mattered anymore. She eventually lost her apartment and became homeless. One day she was on Geary Street and she passed by her former church. It looked run down, obviously vacant. There was a 'For Sale by Grubb' sign hanging on the large stained glass window. She bent down and found a bottle in the gutter. She threw it and watched it break through the thick leaded glass. Then, she picked up a white rock that was nearby in a planter. She again tossed it toward the glass and listened as it made a beautiful tinkling sound as broken glass shattered and fell to the ground. Somehow, this small defiant act made her feel better for a moment. Only for a moment though. She was still jobless, homeless and hopeless.

She wound up at the San Francisco Zen Center. They took her in when no one else would. She was wary of the organization because she did not want to join another religious cult. She was desperate though so she stayed. The Zen Center emphasized meditation, hard work and enforced periods of silence. She found that meditation stilled the sadness, guilt and anger that had raged in her since the mass suicide. The work made her feel like she still had value. The enforced silence gave her a reprieve from explaining her situation to strangers. She became a valued member of the center. Eventually, she went to the Zen Center's Mountain camp near Monterey. There she farmed and learned to make bread. Nicole loved getting out in the sun and harvesting crops. She discovered that she loved making bread the most.

Nicole learned how to feed the yeast without killing it. She'd knead the dough and wait and then knead it again. The way the bread would rise when left near the sun seemed magical to her. She loved making bread more than anything she'd ever done. She found happiness and fulfillment in creating something that everyone enjoyed. Eventually, she moved back to San Francisco and made bread at the Center's Tassajara Bakery on Cole Street.

She made new friends and eventually married and started her own bakery in Petaluma. Despite her personal tragedy she moved on and had a full, happy life'

Dr. Litchfield looked over at Christine and Number One as she jammed her little spoon into her tiny gelato cup.

'Look, I can't even begin to imagine the grief that you feel. Nicole lost her whole family and I remember how she wrote of her personal devastation. It was hard for me to even read the passages. I can't imagine living through such a tragedy. You two must be so overwhelmed right now. You should be thankful you have each other.

I am a good psychologist and I can help you. Some of the work, you will have to do yourself. I didn't tell you this story to imply that you can bake bread and meditate and immediately feel better. I told you Nicole's story because I've noticed how obsessed both of you are with science and technology. You cling to it when you should be clinging to each other.

Sometimes, humans need to dial back and embrace the basics of life. I think that a break from all your computers and laboratory experiments might do you both some good. Nicole began to feel better when she completely changed her environment. Only when she tried completely new things did she heal and find what she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

Maybe, you two can start taking hikes up Mount Tamalpais, or join a softball league. Take deep breaths and appreciate nature. Perhaps, you can spend a couple of weeks at a dude ranch in New Mexico. Make something with your hands. I think it might help you learn to cope with what has happened.'

I remember that Number One asked Dr. Litchfield if she was able to use Nicole's story for her thesis. Dr. Litchfield said she couldn't. She changed topics several times. Finally, she did the thesis on sexual relationships between alien life forms and humans."

Christine's skin reddened for just a moment. She continued on without a pause.

"We did not listen to Dr. Litchfield's advice. I mean how could we? We both studied the sciences in school. It was what we knew. We couldn't replace our studies with rejuvenating nature hikes. The court was watching us more closely than ever. We had to continue with our education. That meant we had to use technology.

Fortunately, Number One was still my guardian. Dr. Litchfield, the school representative, the advocate and even Officers Jake and Steve wrote positive letters about Number One to the judge. It was decided that as long as we abided by all the court's rules, I could stay in our Page Street apartment.'

Dr. Chapel had just finished this sentence when a guard came to escort her back to her cell for lunch. She had assumed she would be allowed to have lunch in the conference room with her counsel. She was told that regulations required that she had to return to her cell for lunch and then she would be allowed 45 minutes physical activity in the gym.

As she was led away, she asked "Will you be here when I get back or will I have to wait for tomorrow?"

The group of men looked at each other. Each nodded in agreement.

Kirk looked at Christine and said with fake levity, "Bad news, you're not finished with us yet."

Christine gave them a weak smile as she was lead away.

Back in her cell, Christine sipped some vegetable broth. She was not hungry but she knew that she needed to keep up her strength. She had not even begun her court battle. She had no idea what was ahead.

So much had happened just today. She had relived the worst tragedy of her life. Now, the top officers of the Enterprise knew all of her darkest secrets.

Christine got a small grape juice from the replicator. She thought of her meeting with Erskine, Spock, McCoy and Kirk. It wasn't her life story that she thought of as she sat alone in the room. The thing she couldn't get out of her mind started with a simple touching of hands.

She had not been surprised or upset when Spock corrected her on her belief that all of her sisters were deceased. She had known Spock for many years and that was simply the way he was. He meant no offense. He felt it was his duty to correct inaccuracies. What shocked her was what had happened next.

When Spock reached out and put his hand on top of hers she had initially been afraid. She was in a highly emotional state. Spock is a touch telepath and she didn't want to inundate him with all the psychic pain she was experiencing. Vulcans do not allow themselves to carry such raw emotions. Christine feared she would overwhelm him.

Fortunately, as a member of the Goleean Liberation Front (GLF), Christine had received training to block her mind from telepathic transmission. Goleean authorities were known to use torture and mind invasion techniques to find and destroy dissident groups. The GLF believed that their survival depended on training recruits not to reveal any information to interrogators.

This training consisted of repetitive mental exercises. Many candidates did not get through the training because the exercises were time consuming and tedious. Each step had to be repeated until it could be done perfectly. This could take many hours. The recruits weren't given any explanation as to why these exercises were effective but they were. If practiced correctly and in the proper order, anyone could learn to block their thoughts and memories from intrusions.

Christine quickly blocked her thoughts when she felt Spock's warm hand on top of hers. Surprisingly, Spock did not immediately put up his mental shields. It was only a flash, probably only a millisecond in time, but she had gotten a glimpse of a memory contained in his mind before he shut it down. The memory that came across was of a confused Spock. He was badly hurt, mentally confused and agitated. He was searching for _her_. He was wondering what had happened to Dr. Christine Chapel. She could feel that her absence was causing him as much pain as his physical injuries.

After this memory went away, it became clear why Spock had put his hand on top of hers. He had a message that he wanted to relay only to her. She heard his deep, resonate voice in her mind. It sounded the same as if it was coming in through her ears.

Christine looked at Spock's face. It was impassive.

In her head she heard, "I believe Number One is still alive on Talos IV."

Christine wanted to ask him why. Why did he believe that? Why would she be on Talos IV of all places? Why would Number One allow Christine to believe she was dead?

Spock sensed her questions and again spoke to her telepathically.

"I have much to tell and show you. We will talk, soon. I'll explain everything to you at that time. I know that you are trying to protect me from your distress. I am impressed with mental control, but a small amount of your emotion is still leaking through the block. I am sorry that you have to relive such emotional pain. I can help you, if you'll allow me. Shut your eyes and feel your own breathe"

Christine did as he asked. Suddenly she felt a wave of calm flow from his hand into her own. She slid her hand away from his and unclenched her thoughts. Surprisingly, the calm feeling remained.

Even now, in her cell Christine could still feel a bit of the calm Spock had sent to her through the mental link. Spock. What did he really know? Christine wondered if there was any way Spock could be correct. Could her sister really be alive?


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Christine was escorted out to the prison yard for her exercise time. The yard was outdoors, made mostly of asphalt with a weight pile on one side, and a large oval track painted into the middle of the black ground. Most of the inmates used this time for socializing, not for physical exertion. The benches placed on the sides of the asphalt were filled with people of different groups talking in their native tongues. It looked almost like an elementary school yard, except that the beings were older and more diverse. Christine saw life forms from many different planets. She could identify most of them.

Christine ignored their stares and began to run on the asphalt track. It felt good to feel the cool, moist, dense, San Francisco air in her lungs. She had breathed the atmosphere of hundreds of Class M planets, but San Francisco's oxygen would always be her favorite. Thud, thud, thud, her feet rhythmically hit the black pavement.

Christine was in good shape and moved quickly across the black tarred surface. She had been in great physical condition on the Enterprise. Starfleet required that all the crew maintain optimal fitness. Christine had raised her athletic prowess to an even higher level after she joined the Goleean Liberation. The training provided by the group had been amazingly thorough and effective. She remembered how Greink made her run with an impossibly heavy backpack on the large indoor training course. At first she wasn't very good. She was quickly killed by the holographic enemies that lurked everywhere on the simulated battlefield. She was a quick study, however. Soon, she was adept at choosing and discharging the right weapon to kill anything that was put in her path. Christine smiled to herself. She had taken quite a twisted career path, starting as a Starfleet nurse who joined to find her lost love, then becoming a highly educated Starfleet officer and physician, moving on to become a trained insurgent, and finally now ending it all, as a prison inmate.

As she ran in the prison yard, Christine's thoughts did not stay focused on her Goleean Liberation training. All Christine could think about was Number One. She had to find out if her sister was really alive. Of course, Christine knew that if Spock was right and Number One was actually on Talos IV, she would never have a family reunion. Everyone in Starfleet was aware of General Order 7. It provided that under penalty of death, no vessel was allowed to visit Talos IV.

Christine pondered why her sister would go to the forbidden planet. She knew little about her sister's time on the Enterprise. By the time her sister had made Lieutenant and was assigned to the Enterprise, their relationship had already started to unravel.

Christine knew of Number One's exploits on Talos IV from her own time at the academy and onboard the Enterprise. Everyone in Starfleet knew the story. The Enterprise had gone to the Talos Star Group to investigate a distress signal. The Talosians, who had incredibly strong telepathic abilities, tried to force Number One, Captain Pike and another female yeoman to stay on the planet. They wanted the two women to become Pike's mates. Of course, the crewmates found this unacceptable.

Number One put her hand laser on overload. She was willing to kill herself, Captain Pike and the yeoman, rather than remain enslaved on Talos IV. Seeing this, the Talosians realized that humans were not suited to being held captive. The Talosians released them. Number One had been willing to give her life to get away from Talos IV. Why would she ever go back there?

Of course, many years later Pike returned to Talos to live out the rest of his life. The Captain had been tragically injured saving the lives of others. When Spock heard of the accident, he took Pike back to the forbidden planet on a mission of compassion. By doing so, the Vulcan broke General Order 7 and had jeopardized his own life. Fortunately, everything had been resolved satisfactory in that case. Spock was exonerated and continued his Starfleet career. Pike was allowed to remain on Talos IV. Through telepathy, the Talosians provided him the illusion that he was living out an idyllic life in perfect health with the beautiful Orion woman, Vina.

Christine couldn't conceive of any lasting connection between Talos IV, Captain Pike and Number One. Then again, she didn't know much at all about Number One's time on the Enterprise. She didn't even know why Number One decided to retire from Starfleet. It pained her that she knew so little about her sister's life. She couldn't even get the puzzle pieces out of the box, much less put them together. They had once been so close. They were everything to each other. It was no mystery to Christine what had started their estrangement. Sadly, like so many other women, they had let a man come between them. A man named Dr. Roger Korby.

The thought of Roger caused Christine to do a stutter-step on the track. Once upon a time, she believed he was her soul mate. Handsome, extremely intelligent, sometimes brooding, and always unbelievably sexy, she thought he was her Heathcliff. After she learned the fate of her sisters, Christine refused to relate anything in her real life to the book Wuthering Heights. It bothered her that a novel she had cherished reading also meant something to her evil mother. She wanted to have no connection with that awful, murdering bitch, Gretchen Schnell.

Seventeen and in love, Christine's fantasies returned to her favorite gothic romance. She decided it wasn't Emily Bronte's fault that her mom had become a psychopath. Catherine and Heathcliff had loved in the moors centuries before Gretchen Schnell had been born. She was not going to let any of her past hardships interfere with her new relationship. Christine decided she was Catherine, Roger was Heathcliff, and misty San Francisco was the moorlands. There would be one difference between her story and Catherine's. Christine knew her story would have a happy ending. Roger and Christine did not face any of the societal pressures that tore Catherine and Heathcliff apart. In the twenty-third century, she and Roger could marry. Unlike when she was younger, the seventeen year old Christine didn't think about how the divorce rate for first marriages was over 50%. Statistics aren't romantic. She believed that she and Roger would live, love, raise a family and grow old together.

Christine chuckled at her naïveté. How could she have been so blind? What had she been thinking? She thought back to when she and Roger first met. She was a first year undergrad at Stanford. Her time at college had been happy for her. She loved the campus. The stately old brick buildings with red tile were reminiscent of ancient California from the Spaniard period. The huge library was a delight to explore. Like all the facilities, it had a historic exterior, but the inside was equipped with every amenity. Earth's fastest computers accessed the school's massive database of research papers and periodicals. There were comfortable study pods and sound proofed conference rooms. To her delight, there were also stacks and stacks of real printed and bound books.

She enjoyed her classes and teachers. She was getting along well with her classmates and had some great friends. It really felt like a fresh start for her after all the previous unpleasantness. She finally felt clean. She had a new name, Christine Chapel and a fresh start at life.

Dr. Roger Korby was her instructor. The introductory class in Medical Archeology was an elective that she felt fortunate to get into. Roger was already a hugely respected scientist. He was universally famous. There was a buzz all over the campus when he joined the faculty. It was an ostrich-sized feather in the mortar cap of the already prestigious university.

At first, Christine was a student like all the others. She captured Roger's attention with the first research paper she turned in. It was an analysis of the medical ostraca of Deir el-Medina. Her premise was that some of the cures that the Egyptians documented on the tablets which were believed by other scientists only to be 'magical' components actually were truly medicinal. One of Christine's examples was the black and red eye paints that were used to cure blindness in ancient Egypt. The pigments in the black and red paints contained lycotects which are used in the 22nd century to treat many types of fungal eye infections.

Roger told Christine that he was impressed with her scientific mind and hired her on as an assistant. Of course, Christine was flattered. Working alongside Roger and his colleague Brownie, Christine found herself noticing Roger's manly cologne, delicate hands and strong mind.

Soon, she wasn't so nervous around him. He became Roger rather than Dr. Korby. She noticed that he stood very close to her as they set up the lab equipment together. Sometimes, his hand would brush up on hers when they were working. She noticed that he would not be quick to pull his hand away. She could feel that he was interested in her and she had definitely reciprocated the feeling. He was a true genius. She found his scientific mind irresistibly sexy.

When he asked her out to dinner one evening, Christine thought nothing of the significant age difference between them. She immediately accepted. They had a lovely time. Roger talked easily about his life on Long Island, with his two brothers and one sister. He asked Christine about her relatives. She deflected the questions. Christine never spoke of her family.

Christine remembered Roger looking at her with a twinkle in his eye.

"Christine, you know you can't win, don't you?" Roger said in a seductive voice.

"What am I trying to win, Roger?" Christine coyly asked.

"You are a woman of mystery and I've spent my whole career solving mysteries," Roger answered as he rubbed the back of his hand against hers, "You don't stand a chance. You might as well just spill it all to me now."

"Spill what, Roger? There really isn't much to tell. I'm from San Francisco. I have a wonderful, older sister. She's a scientist in Starfleet. Right now, she's at the academy for officer's training. Most likely, she'll be heading into deep space as the chief science officer on a Constitution-class vessel. I'm so proud of her. I'd really like you two to meet. I think you'd like each other very much. Other than that, there's not much to know."

"Oh, I have a feeling there's much more to Ms. Christine Chapel than that. I read your paper. It would have been exceptional if it had been written by a graduate student. For an undergrad to have such a grasp of medicine, science, linguistics and archeology is unheard of. You say your sister is a scientist? That makes sense, but I have a feeling there's more than two scientists in your family tree."

Christine remembered her distress with how this conversation was heading. Distract, deflect, and deny, Christine recalled how she searched for a way to change the subject. She decided to answer with a half truth and hoped he wouldn't pursue it further.

"Yes, Roger you're right. I come from a family of scientists and educators. I _was_ one of many."

Thankfully there were no more questions that evening. Eventually, Christine let Roger know all of her. But, it didn't happen on that first dinner date.

~~~OOO~~~

Christine had believed that the party she threw to introduce Roger to Number One went well. Number One brought some guy she knew from Academy. He seemed nice, but Christine could tell there was no romance in the relationship. Roger brought his assistant Brownie. Christine made a simple meal of lasagna, garlic bread and tiramisu for dessert. Roger and Number One talked about Starfleet, the politics of Starfleet, space exploration in general, and the politics in academia. Christine and Number One's date tried to keep up with the fast paced conversation. They joined in when they could. Brownie was amiable and interjected with a light-hearted joke every now and then.

After the guests politely made their exit, Christine felt warm and happy. She knew that her little party had been successful. Christine whistled a tune and did a little dance while she cleaned up a bit, before going to bed. Her arabesque with plate in hand was interrupted when Number One stomped into the room.

"What the fuck, Chris? Seriously, what the fuck are you thinking?"

Christine's mood deflated as quickly as a cold soufflé.

"What, One? Did I do something wrong? I thought the party went wonderfully?"

Everything had gone so well, Christine was at a loss as to why her sister was so angry.

"Did I forget to arm the security panel after our guests left? I'm sorry. I'll go do it now."

Christine moved to leave the kitchen, but Number One rose up her hand to stop her.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were still on spores."

Number One stared at Christine, anger in her eyes. Christine looked back, tears beginning to form in hers. Christine was shocked. They had put that whole incident behind them long ago. Neither of them ever spoke of it. Why would Number One say something so cruel? Chris' immediate urge was to strike back at her sister. She wanted to remind her that the monastery had been her idea. But, Christine realized that this would just escalate the anger. The last thing she wanted to do was fight with Number One, especially after having a great evening with Roger. She really just wanted to go to bed and dream of Roger's intelligent words and sweet caresses. She knew however, that Number One wasn't going to let whatever was troubling her go for another day. They would have to talk it out.

Trying to remain calm she began, "That's a cheap shot and you know it. Why don't you just tell me why you're so angry?"

Christine gestured to the kitchen table. They both went over and sat at facing chairs.

Number One was trying to regain her composure, but she was obviously very upset.

"Look Chris, I was excited when you invited me to have dinner with Dr. Roger Korby. Do you know that his work is required reading at the academy? I really respected him. I thought it was amazing that you were working with such a brilliant scientist.

But, I thought he was your professor, not your boyfriend. When he started playing with your hair and rubbing his old man lips all over your sweet face, I almost threw up! Chris, please tell me that you're not sleeping with him!"

Christine honestly answered, "Not yet."

"Good, remember you're not eighteen. I could have him prosecuted."

"Yes, but you won't. You don't have time for court. You'll go off into deep space and leave me alone, again."

Number One's head jerked back a bit like she'd been hit by an invisible glove.

"Christine, I've taken care of you for a long time. I'll always love you and be your sister, but I can't be your mother. You're almost grown. I have a right to live my own life. I know you've been through a lot, but so have I. I've gotten over it and moved on. I can't understand why you keep messing your life up, again and again."

"But I have moved on. I'm at Stanford. I'm getting straight A's. I'm dating a wonderful man. What am I doing that is so horrible?"

"Can't you see that this 'wonderful man' is just your replacement for Mama Gretchen? It's like you want her back. The way he complained about Starfleet for not allowing him the use of a ship for his research. It was so ridiculous! A ship and crew like he wanted would be worth billions! Then, he kept complaining that he was so underappreciated by all the other scientists and administrators at Stanford. He said that no one could begin to understand his worth. Can't you see how much that sounded like Schnell?

You know, I thought meeting Dr. Korby would be like meeting a modern day Indiana Jones. Instead it was Dr. Frankenstein and Igor who walked into my apartment tonight. I mean, what's with that dude, Brownie? Fawning after Korby, and agreeing with everything he said. Making stupid little jokes when he was afraid I was getting the better of his boss. I don't know why you can't see it, Christine!"

Christine was angry at the attack on her man. She decided that if Number One wanted to fight, she'd hit back, hard.

"What I see, is how you haven't gotten over Mama Gretchen. You're jealous because I can get men and you can't. Mama Gretchen taught you to hate men and you learned your lesson well. In fact you learned it so well, that you'll never find the love and happiness that I have. I'm tired; I'm going to go to bed."

Christine was surprised that Number One did not come back with an angry retort.

She simply said, "Goodnight, Christine. Remember, I do love you. You know, something I've learned in Starfleet is that even if it seems like there is no hope left at all, often times there is room for second, third and even fourth chances. Time and space are unfathomable by man. Always keep your mind open."

Christine uttered under her breath, "Weirdo."

Then she turned around and went into the bedroom they shared.

After that night, the two sisters remained civil. But, Number One and Christine's relationship was never as close as it had been before.


End file.
